LETTERS   HOME 


BY 


W.  D.  HOWELLS 

AUTHOR   OF 

LITERARY    FRIENDS    AND    ACQUAINTANCE 

"LITERATURE  AND  LIFE"  "THE  KENTONS" 

"THEIR  SILVER  WEDDING  JOURNEY  " 

ETC.    ETC. 


NEW  YORK  AND    LONDON 

HARPER  &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

1903 


Copyright,  1903,  by  THE  METROPOLITAN  MAGAZINE  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  September,  1903. 


LETTERS    HOME. 


271760 


LETTERS  HOME. 


From  MR.  OTIS   BINNING    to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 
Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  12,  1901. 
My  Dear  Margaret: 

I  am  afraid  it  will  not  do,  and  that  you  will  have 
your  brother-in-law  back  on  your  hands  again,  for  the 
winter,  or  lose  him  indefinitely.  I  do  not  mean,  lose 
him  to  New  York ;  far  from  that ;  as  far  as  Europe, 
in  fact ;  for  if  I  were  to  take  stock  (the  local  commer 
cialism  instantly  penetrates  one's  vocabulary)  of  my 
emotions,  I  suspect  I  should  find  myself  evenly  bal 
anced  between  the  impulse  to  board  the  next  train  for 
Boston  and  the  impulse  to  board  the  next  steamer  for 
Liverpool.  The  things  are  about  equally  simple :  the 
facilities  for  getting  away  from  New  York  compensate 

for  the  facilities  for  getting  to  New  York ;  and  I  could 
1 


2  LETTERS    HOME. 

keep  my  promise  of  amusing  your  invalid  leisure  by 
letter  as  well  from  one  place  as  from  another.  "Wher 
ever  I  am  to  be,  I  am  not  to  be  pitied  as  one  taxed 
beyond  his  strength  in  keeping  a  rash  promise.  Your 
rest-cure  may  be  good  for  you,  or  it  may  not ;  but  for 
me  I  am  sure  it  will  be  good  if  it  gives  me  back  that 
boon  period  of  life,  when  I  wrote  letters  willingly  and 
wrote  them  long.  I  have  already  a  pleasing  prescience 
of  an  earlier  time;  in  the  mere  purpose  of  writing 
you,  I  feel  the  glow  of  that  charming  adolescence  of 
the  world,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  when  everybody, 
no  matter  of  what  age,  willingly  wrote  such  long  let 
ters  as  to  give  the  epistolary  novel  a  happy  air  of 
verisimilitude. 

I  wish  I  could  be  more  definite  as  to  the  reasons  of 
my  doubts  whether  I  shall  stay  here  or  not.  Certainly 
the  meteorological  conditions  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  matter.  Up  to  the  present  date  these  have  been 
the  greatest  amiability.  About  Thanksgiving  there 
were  some  days  of  rough  cold,  which  with  our  native 
climate  still  in  my  nerves,  I  expected  to  last  for  a 
week  at  least ;  but  with  the  volatility  of  the  New  York 
nature,  it  all  blew  away  in  forty-eight  hours.  The 
like  has  happened  several  times  since ;  a  sort  of  cor 
rupt  warmth  has  succeeded  the  cold,  affecting  one  as 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.         3 

if  the  tissues  of  the  season  had  broken  down  through 
sympathy  with  the  municipal  immorality.  I  should 
like  to  stay,  if  for  nothing  else,  to  see  what  the  re 
formers  will  do  in  the  way  of  an  honest  climate  after 
they  get  into  power  at  the  end  of  the  year,  but  I  do 
not  know  whether  I  shall  be  able  to  do  it.  In  the 
meantime,  I  like  the  mildness,  though  I  can  never  get 
over  my  surprise  at  it ;  I  enjoy  it,  as  I  suppose  I  should 
enjoy  standing  in  with  Tammany,  in  some  enormously 
wicked  deal  that  turned  over  half  the  streets  to  me 
for,  say,  automobile  speedways.  I  had  really  forgot 
ten  what  a  Florentine  sky  New  York  often  has  in 
mid-December,  by  night  and  by  day,  with  a  suffusion 
of  warm  color  from  the  sunsets,  which  is  as  different 
from  the  shrill  pink  of  our  Back  Bay  sunsets  as  the 
New  York  relaxation  is  from  our  moral  tension.  You 
have  been  here  much  later  and  oftener  than  I,  and  I 
dare  say  you  take  for  granted  all  the  unseasonable 
gentleness  which  I  am  finding  so  incredible,  and  so 
acceptable.  But  as  yet  I  am  not  accustomed  to  it, 
and  I  have  a  bad  conscience  in  celebrating  it. 

The  whole  place  is  filthier,  with  the  pulling  down 
and  building  up,  the  delving  for  the  Rapid  Transit, 
and  I  do  not  know  what  else,  than  I  have  seen  it  since 
poor  Waring  first  taught  Father  Knickerbocker  (as 


4  LETTERS    HOME. 

their  newspaper  cartoonists  like  to  figure  the  city),  the 
novelty  of  purging  and  living  cleanly  like  a  gentleman, 
and  I  suppose  it  is  the  sense  of  the  invasive,  pervasive 
dirt  that  has  much  to  do  with  my  doubt  whether  I 
can  stand  it.  Now  and  then  a  rain  comes  and  washes 
it  all  away,  and  makes  the  old  sloven  look  endimanche, 
but  the  filth  begins  again  with  the  first  week  day,  and 
you  go  about  with  your  mouth  and  eyes  full  of  mala 
rious  dust,  as  you  did  before.  Of  course,  you  will  re 
mind  me  that  Boston  is  always  pulling  down  and 
building  up  too ;  but  her  vices  whiten  into  virtues  be 
side  New  York's  in  that  way.  Then  the  noise,  the 
noise  !  All  the  money  from  all  the  stocks  and  bonds 
centering  their  wealth  into  the  place,  cannot  buy  ex 
emption  from  it.  Boston  is  noisy,  too,  but  there  are 
large  spaces  in  Boston  where  you  can  get  fairly  well 
away  from  the  noise,  and  I  know  of  none  here,  though 
there  is  said  to  be  one  block  up  and  down  next  the 
Riverside  Drive  which  is  tolerably  free  from  it;  but 
no  one  that  is  any  one  lives  there,  for  New  York  is  in 
nothing  more  anomalous  than  in  having  the  east  side 
for  her  fashionable  quarter.  Everywhere  the  noise 
buffets  you,  insults  you ;  and  the  horrible  means  of 
transit,  that  add  so  much  to  the  danger  and  the  dirt, 
burst  your  ears  with  their  din. 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.    WALTER  BINNING.       5 

I  am  no  longer  young,  and  I  am  not  very  well ;  you 
are  quite  right  on  both  of  these  points ;  but  I  am  not 
a  dotard  quite,  or  quite  an  invalid,  and  I  do  not  ex 
aggerate  the  facts  which  you  beautiful  creatures  in 
your  later  forties  make  so  light  of.  I  fancy  there  is 
a  dreadful  solidarity  in  New  York.  I  dare  not  trust 
myself  to  the  climate,  for  instance,  which  I  know  is 
doing  me  good,  for  fear  there  is  something  behind  it, 
something  colossally  uncertain  and  unreliable,  and 
that  later  I  shall  pay  with  pneumonia  for  the  relief 
from  my  nervous  dyspepsia. 

Just  now,  indeed,  we  are  in  one  of  those  psycholog 
ical  moments  when  there  ought  to  be  great  safety  for 
me.  The  better  element,  as  it  diffidently  calls  itself, 
has  been  given  charge  of  the  city,  you  know,  by  the 
recent  election,  and  the  experiment  of  self-government 
is  to  be  tried  once  more  by  people  who  have  appar 
ently  so  little  interest  in  it.  As  nearly  as  I  can  make 
out  from  chance  encounters  at  the  Perennial  Club 
(where  Malkin  has  had  me  elected  a  non-resident  mem 
ber  ;  he  left  town  as  soon  as  he  had  done  it),  there 
seems  to  be  what  I  should  call  an  unexpectation  in 
the  general  mind :  a  willingness  to  take  things  as  they 
come,  to  wait  on  providence  in  a  semi-cynical  resigna 
tion,  which  in  the  last  analysis  might  prove  a  kind  of 


6  LETTERS  HOME. 

piety.  They  have  been  reformed  so  frequently,  these 
poor  New  Yorkers,  and  then  unreforined,  that  they 
have  rather  fallen  into  the  habit  of  taking  the  good 
with  the  bad  as  if  it  might  turn  out  the  bad.  The 
newspapers  keep  shouting  away,  but  that  does  not 
count ;  there  are  only  two  or  three  of  them  that  are  ever 
regarded  seriously ;  and  the  people  at  the  Perennial, 
who  do  not  get  their  politics  from  London  quite  so  en 
tirely  as  some  of  our  fellows,  are  very  placid  about  the 
municipal  situation.  They  seem  to  rely  altogether 
on  the  men  who  have  been  put  into  office,  and  not  the 
least  on  those  who  put  them  in ;  in  fact  the  govern 
ment  of  New  York  is  almost  as  personal  as  that  of 
Germany. 

You  can  read  this  to  Walter ;  and  tell  him  that  the 
Perennial  is  certainly  a  club  to  be  put  up  at  if  you 
must  come  to  New  York.  There  are  interesting  heads, 
inside  and  out,  here ;  the  house  is  wonderfully  cosy 
and  incredibly  quiet,  an  oasis  in  a  desert  of  noise ;  and 
the  windows  look  out  over  two  miles  of  woodland  in 
the  Park,  where  I  have  already  begun  to  take  my  walks. 
You  will  say,  Here  are  the  elements  of  a  pleasant  so 
journ  ;  and  I  do  not  deny  it ;  but  they  are  only  the 
elements.  The  chemistry  of  their  combination  is 
wanting;  and  what  I  fear  is  that  at  the  end  of  the 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.    WALTER  BINNING.       7 

winter,  I  should  look  back  over  my  experience,  and 
find    in  it  nothing  but   the    elements  of  a    pleasant 

sojourn. 

Yours  affectionately, 

OTIS. 


II. 

From    WALLACE    ARDITH    to  A.  LINCOLN    WIBBERT,, 
Office  of  THE  DAY,  Wottoma,  Iowa. 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  15,  1901. 
Dear  Old  Line: 

It  is  simply  glorious,  there  is  no  other  word  for  it. 
I  have  to  keep  pinching  myself,  to  make  sure  that  it 
is  not  some  other  fellow;  but  if  it  be  I  as  I  hope  it  be, 
I've  a  little  Line  at  home,  and  he'll  know  me — or 
words  to  that  effect.  So  I  will  try  to  sober  down  and 
make  the  appeal  to  you.  But  I  feel  that  it  is  an  awful 
waste  of  time,  for  the  subjects  crowd  upon  you  here, 
and  what  I  give  to  friendship  I  take  from  literature, 
I  want  you  to  appreciate  that. 

It  seems  strange  that  it  should  be  only  three  nights 
ago  that  I  parted  from  you  with  that  awful  wrench  in 
the  dirty  old  depot  at  Wottoma,  and  took  the  sleeper 
for  Chicago.  Aeons  of  experience,  swept  down  by 
deluges  of  emotion,  have  passed  since  then,  and  I  feel 


WALLACE  ABDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.       9 

older  than  the  earth.  I  do  not  think  I  was  very 
young  then ;  I  had  gone  through  what  is  supposed  to 
age  a  man,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  you,  and  your 
sympathy  in  it  all,  I  do  not  know  what  I  should  have 
done.  But  I  believe  I  was  wise  to  wait  till  I  had  a 
better  excuse  for  running  away  than  I  had  six  months 
ago.  I  am  all  right,  now,  and  I  am  all  the  better  for 
being  at  a  distance  from  a  Certain  Person.  If  you 
happen  to  see  her,  will  you  kiss  my  hand  to  her, 
very  airily,  and  say,  "  Merci,  ma  chere "  ?  If  she 
asks  you  why,  will  you  tell  her  that  you  have 
heard  from  W.  A.,  and  that  his  health  is  per 
fectly  restored?  Understand,  Line,  I  don't  blame 
her  now,  if  I  ever  did ;  you  will  bear  me  witness  that 
I  would  not  let  you  do  it.  She  had  a  perfect  right  to 
turn  me  down,  but  to  turn  me  down  for  him,  oh,  that 
hurt !  I  could  stand  being  near  her  (and  yet  so  far  !) 
but  it  was  being  within  nose-pulling  distance  of  him 
that  I  could  not  stand.  I  am  glad  that  I  came  here 
to  face  the  ghost  down  in  the  midst  of  men,  instead 
of  taking  the  woods,  as  I  was  tempted  to  do.  It 
would  have  faced  me  down,  if  I  had  gone  home,  and 
it  would  have  killed  my  poor  old  mother  to  see  my 
hopeless  love-sickness. 

That's  what  I  was,  Line :  love-sick,  and  now  I  am 


10  LETTERS  HOME. 

love-well  and  it  is  New  York  that  has  completed  my 
cure.  Or  rather,  she  has  inspired  me  with  a  new  pas 
sion  ;  she  herself  is  my  passion,  and  I  will  never  leave 
to  love  her  evermore!  Radiant,  peerless  divinity,  but 
majestic  and  awful  too,  her  splendor  dazzles  me,  her 
sovereign  beauty  enthralls  me,  her  charm  intoxicates, 
maddens  me !  What  is  any  mortal  girl  to  this 
apotheosis  of  Opportunity,  this  myriad-visaged 
Chance,  this  Fortune  on  a  million  wheels  !  There  is 
more  material  in  a  minute  here,  Line,  than  there  is  in 
Wottoma  in  a  year.  I  don't  want  to  go  back  on  the 
dear  old  place —  or  to  it,  as  George  Ade  said  about 
Indiana ;  but  there  is  no  Wottoma  when  you  think  of 
New  York ;  it  wipes  itself  from  the  map,  and  vanishes 
from  the  gazetteer. 

You  will  never  understand  why  till  you  come  here, 
but  you  will  come  some  day,  and  then  you  will  know 
all  about  it.  I  was  wishing  to-night  when  I  came  out 
of  the  little  French  restaurant  where  I  dine  (it  was 
the  first  time,  but  I  am  always  going  to  dine  there) 
that  you  could  have  been  here  to  put  your  hand  in 
mine,  and  walk  up  Broadway  with  me,  just  for  one 
breath,  one  glimpse  of  it  all.  You  would  not  have 
needed  that  dinner — six  courses,  with  wine  included, 
for  fifty  cents — warm  under  your  waistcoat,  to  make 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.      11 

you  feel  yourself  not  merely  a  witness  of  the  great 
procession  of  life,  but  a  part  of  it.  By  that  time 
every  one's  work  is  over,  and  the  people  are  streaming 
to  the  theatres,  past  the  shining  shops  on  foot,  and 
cramming  the  trolleys,  the  women  in  furs  and 
diamonds,  and  the  men  in  crush  hats  and  long  over 
coats,  with  just  enough  top  buttons  open  to  betray 
the  dress  tie  and  dress  shirt.  (I  have  laid  in  one  of 
those  majestic  overcoats  already,  and  I  have  got  a  silk 
hat,  and  I  would  like  to  show  it  to  you  in  Wottoma, 
where  you  can't  buy  a  silk  hat  unless  you  send  to 
Chicago  for  it.)  At  the  doors  of  the  theatres,  more 
gorgeous  women  and  more  correct  men  are  getting 
out  of  hansoms,  and  coupes,  and  automobiles,  and 
trailing  in  over  the  pavements  between  rows  of  re 
splendent  darkeys  in  livery ;  and  life  is  worth  living. 
But  when  I  begin  anywhere  on  New  York,  I  want 
to  leave  off  and  begin  somewhere  else,  for  the  job  is 
always  hopeless.  Take  the  Christmas  streets  alone, 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  if  you  have  a 
soul  in  you  it  soars  sky-scraper  high  at  the  sight  of 
the  pavements  packed  with  people,  and  the  street 
jammed  with  cars,  wagons,  carriages,  and  every  vehicle 
you  can  imagine,  and  many  you  can't,  you  poor  old 
provincial !  I  ache  to  get  at  it  all  in  verse ;  I  want  to 


12  LETTERS    HOME. 

write  the  Epic  of  New  York,  and  I  am  going  to.  I 
would  like  to  walk  you  down  Twenty-third  Street, 
between  Fifth  and  Sixth  avenues,  and  wake  you  up  to 
the  fact  that  you  have  got  a  country.  Only  you 
would  think  you  were  dreaming ;  and  it  is  a  dream. 
What  impresses  me  most  is  the  gratis  exhibition  that 
goes  on  all  the  time,  the  continuous  performance  of 
the  streets  that  you  could  not  get  for  money  any  where 
else,  and  that  here  is  free  to  the  poorest.  In  fact, 
is  for  the  poor.  There  is  one  window  on  Fourteenth 
Street  where  the  sidewalk  is  a  solid  mass  of  humanity 
from  morning  till  night,  entranced  by  the  fairy  scene 
inside ;  and  most  of  the  spectators  look  as  if  they  had 
not  been  to  breakfast  or  dinner,  and  were  not  going 
to  supper.  But  they  are  enraptured ;  and  that  is  the 
great  secret  of  New  York ;  she  takes  you  out  of  your 
self  ;  she  annihilates  you  and  disperses  you,  and  you 
might  starve  to  death  here  without  feeling  hungry,  for 
your  mind  wouldn't  be  on  it.  That  is  what  convinces 
me  that  I  have  come  to  the  best  place  for  that  little 
heart-cure. 

This  afternoon  I  was  in  the  Park ;  my  hotel  is  only 
a  few  blocks  below  it,  and  the  woods  called  to  me 
across  the  roofs,  and  I  went.  The  sunset  was  dying 
over  the  Seventh  Avenue  entrance  as  I  went  in  and  as 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.       13 

I  tramped  up  past  a  big  meadow  where  they  pasture 
a  flock  of  sheep,  and  crossed  a  bridge  to  a  path  that 
follows  the  border  of  a  lake  into  what  they  call  the 
Ramble,  far  from  hoofs  and  wheels.  The  twilight 
was  hovering  in  the  naked  tree  tops,  but  the  sunset 
was  still  reflected  from  the  water  among  the  trunks 
below,  and  just  as  I  got  to  a  little  corner  under  the 
hill  where  there  is  a  bust  of  Schiller  on  a  plinth,  be 
tween  evergreens  that  try  to  curtain  it,  the  red 
radiance  glorified  a  pair  of  lovers  tilting  on  the  air 
above  the  path  before  me.  He  had  his  arm  across 
her  shoulders,  and  she  had  hers  flung  round  his  waist ; 
I  stopped,  for  I  felt  myself  intruding,  and  that  made 
them  look  round,  and  they  started  apart.  Then,  after 
they  had  taken  a  few  steps,  she  closed  upon  him 
again,  and  with  an  action  of  angelic  defiance,  as  if 
she  said,  "  I  don't  care ;  suppose  we  are  ?  "  she  flung 
her  slim  little  arm  round  him,  and  ran  him  up  the 
slope  of  the  path  past  the  bust,  and  round  a  rock  out 
of  sight.  It  was  charming,  Line,  but  it  made  me 
faint,  and  I  dropped  down  on  a  bench  beside  an  old 
fellow  who  might  have  been  a  fellow-sufferer,  though 
he  didn't  look  it.  He  was  got  up  in  things  that  re 
duced  mine  to  an  average  value  of  thirty  cents,  and  I 
saw  that  if  I  really  meant  business  I  must  have  a  pair 


14  LETTERS    HOME. 

of  drab  gaiters  inside  of  the  next  twenty-four  hours. 
I  don't  know  what  made  me  think  he  was  also  liter 
ary,  but  I  did,  and  I  was  nattered  to  have  him  speak  to 
me  after  he  had  given  me  a  glance  over  the  shoulder 
next  me,  through  his  extremely  polite  pince-nez.  He 
was  clean  shaven,  except  for  the  neat  side  whiskers,  of 
the  period  of  1840-60,  as  you  see  them  in  the  old 
pictures ;  and  very  rosy  about  the  gills,  with  a  small, 
sweet  smile.  You  could  see  that  he  was  his  own 
ideal  of  a  gentleman,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
used  to  being  one  for  several  generations;  at  least, 
that  was  the  way  I  romanced  him ;  and  perhaps  that 
was  why  I  felt  nattered  when  he  suggested,  as  if  I 
would  perfectly  understand,  "  That  was  rather  pretty.  " 
I  ventured  to  answer,  "  Yes,  very  pretty,  indeed.  "  I 
was  just  thinking  how  old  Schiller  would  have  liked 
to  wink  the  other  eye  of  his  bust  there,  and  tell  them 
he  knew  how  it  was  himself.  So  I  quoted — 

"  Ich  habe  genossen  das  irdische  Gliick, 
Ich  habe  gelebt  und  geliebet.  " 

My  quotation  seemed  to  startle  the  old  fellow,  and 
he  said  "  Ah! "  and  faced  around  at  me,  and  asked  with 
an  irony  that  caressed,  "  Made  in  Germany  1 "  I  made 
bold  to  answer,  "  The  verses  were.  I  was  made  in 
Iowa."  Then  I  felt  rather  flat,  for  having  lugged  in 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.       15 

my  autobiography,  but  he  did  not  mind,  or  if  he  did, 
he  only  laughed,  and  remarked,  "  A  thing  like  that 
would  make  a  nice  effect  on  the  stage,  if  you  could 
get  it  in. "  "  But  you  could'nt,  "  I  said,  "  you  could 
only  get  it  into  a  poem.  It  would  be  gross  and  pal 
pable  on  the  stage.  "  "  Was  it  gross  and  palpable 
here  ? "  "  No,  here  it  was  the  real  thing.  "  "  I  don't 
see  the  logic  of  your  position, "  he  said.  "  I  don't 
know  that  I  could  show  it  to  you.  It's  something 
you  must  feel. "  He  laughed  again,  with  the  reve 
lation  of  some  very  well-dentistried  teeth,  and  said, 
"  Well,  let's  hope  that  some  time  I  may  be  fine  enough 
to  feel  it.  If  I  put  it  on  the  stage  will  it  spoil  it  for 
a  poem?"  "  Not  if  I  get  it  into  a  poem  first.  "  "  I 
shouldn't  object  to  that ;  I  could  dramatize  the  poem. 
Or  perhaps  you  could.  "  He  got  up,  and  made  me  a 
beautiful  bow,  with  his  hat  off.  "  We  may  be  rivals,  " 
he  said, "  but  I  hope  we  part  friends  ? "  and  I  got  back 
with,  "  Oh,  yes,  or  the  best  of  enemies.  " 

That  made  him  smile  again,  and  he  walked  away 
down  the  path  I  had  come.  He  might  have  been 
a  fine  old  actor :  he  had  the  effect  of  "  going  off " 
at  the  end  of  the  scene.  But  think  of  this  happening 
to  me  all  at  once,  and  out  of  a  clear  sky,  after  the 
chronic  poverty  of  incident  in  Wottoma !  I  suppose 


16  LETTERS    HOME. 

I  shall  never  see  him  again,  but  once  is  enough  to 
enrich  the  imagination  with  boundless  possibilities. 
He  had  an  English  accent,  but  I  feel  sure  that  he  was 
not  English ;  they  study  that  accent  for  the  stage,  of 
course. 

Well,  I  might  as  well  stop  first  as  last,  if  this  is 
first;  I  never  should  get  through;  and  I  should  have 
to  dispatch  this  letter  in  sections,  like  a  big  through 
train,  if  it  went  on  much  longer.  Good-by.  I  shall 
not  wait  for  you  to  write.  It  would  kill  me  not  to 
write,  and  you  may  expect  something  every  day. 
Yours  ever, 

W.  ARDITH. 

P.  S. — I  shall  use  that  lovers  incident  in  a  story. 
Then  I  can  get  my  unknown  friend  in,  and  I  can 
make  use  of  myself.  I  see  a  way  to  relate  our  com 
mon  fortunes  to  those  of  the  lovers.  I  believe  I  can 
make  something  out  of  it.  But  now  I  like  to  let  it 
lie  a  silent  joy  in  my  soul —  No,  I  don't  believe  I  can 
risk  waiting.  That  old  fellow  may  be  going  to  use 
the  material  at  once.  I  believe  I  shall  try  making  a 
poem  of  it,  and  if  I  hit  it  off,  I  will  send  you  a  copy 
to  let  you  see  what  I  have  done  with  it.  If  I  could 
only  get  that  thing  out  as  it  is  in  my  mind !  I  think 
I  will  imagine  some  old  fellow,  seeing  in  that  pair  of 


WALLACE    ARDITH  TO    A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    17 

lovers  the  phantom  of  his  own  love,  dead  forty  years. 
That  would  allow  me  to  put  in  some  Thackeray 
touches,  (that  elderly  unknown  was  quite  a  Thackeray 
type,)  and  I  could  use  my  own  experience  with  a  Cer 
tain  Person.  Line,  that  girl  looked  just  like  a  Certain 
Person:  I  mean  her  figure,  so  slight  and  light  and 
electrical  *  and  the  way  she  glanced  defiantly  back  at 
us  over  her  shoulder,  when  she  put  her  arm  round 
him  again ! 


III. 

From  ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY  to  REV.  WILLIAM  BAYSLEY, 
Timber   Creek,    Iowa. 

NEW  YORK,  December  19,  1901. 
Dear  Brother  : 

Yours  of  the  15th  received,  and  contents  noted. 
Would  say  that  we  are  all  usually  well,  and  getting 
used  to  our  life  here  as  well  as  we  can.  It  is  worse 
for  wife  and  I  than  it  is  for  the  girls,  but  I  guess 
they  are  a  little  homesick,  too.  Am  not  sure  but 
what  it  is  worse  for  them,  because  the  girls  have  not 
much  to  do,  and  mother  and  me  are  pretty  well  taken 
up,  her  with  her  housekeeping,  and  me  getting  settled 
in  the  business  here,  and  feeling  anxious  whether  I 
can  make  it  go  or  not.  When  the  company  offered 
me  the  place  here,  at  $2,500,  I  thought  it  was  a  for 
tune,  but  money  does  not  go  quite  so  far  in  New 
York  as  what  it  would  in  Timber  Creek;  I  have  to 

pay  forty  dollars  a  month  for  rent  alone,  and  we  live 
18 


ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY  TO  BEY.  WILLIAM  BAYSLEY.     19 

in  a  six-room  flat,  with  two  of  the  rooms  so  dark  that 
we  have  to  burn  gas  in  them  by  day,  and  gas  costs. 
But  the  kitchen  is  sunny,  and  Ma  likes  that.  We 
set  there  of  an  evening  when  the  girls  are  carrying  on 
in  the  parlor,  with  their  music,  and  try  to  make  our 
selves  believe  that  we  are  in  the  old  home-kitchen  at 
Timber  Creek;  but  with  a  gas  range  it  is  difficult. 
Was  you  really  thinking  of  renting  the  old  place  ? 
Would  let  you  have  it  on  easy  terms.  I  can't  bear 
to  think  of  it  standing  empty  the  whole  winter  long. 
Would  say,  go  into  it,  William,  and  welcome,  for 
anything  you  are  a  mind  to  pay.  If  you  didn't 
mean  that,  all  right;  Ma  thought  may  be  you  did. 
I  know  your  wife  would  use  it  well.  Would  say, 
you  can  have  the  horse  over  the  winter  for  his  keep, 
and  if  you  can  sell  him  for  anything  in  the  spring, 
will  allow  you  a  fair  percentage.  I  know  you  will  do 
the  best  you  can  for  me.  Perhaps  Watson  will  take 
him  off  your  hands ;  he  wanted  a  horse. 

My,  but  it  brings  the  old  place  up  to  talk  about 
these  things  !  But  a  man  can't  afford  to  indulge  in 
much  sentiment  if  he  expects  to  get  along  in  New 
York.  He  has  got  to  be  business  from  the  word  go. 
I  try  to  push  things  all  I  can,  but  sometimes, 
William,  I  am  most  afraid  I  am  getttng  too  old  for 


20  LETTERS     HOME. 

it,  and  if  the  company  finds  that  out  it  will  be  all 
day  with  me.  A  trust  has  no  bowels,  but  I  don't 
blame  them,  I  suppose  I  should  be  just  so  myself. 
William  do  you  ever  think  people  live  too  long? 
There,  you  will  say,  he  is  flying  in  the  face  of  provi 
dence,  and  the  Lord  knows  I  don't  mean  to,  but  am 
thankful  for  all  my  blessings.  I  don't  know  how  ma 
and  the  girls  could  get  along  without  me,  old  as  I  am, 
in  this  awful  city,  or  me  without  them  for  that 
matter.  The  girls  have  not  got  acquainted  much,  if 
any,  yet.  It  is  not  very  sociable  here.  We  have 
been  in  this  house  nearly  two  weeks,  and  although  as 
much  as  twenty  families  live  above  and  below  us,  in 
the  six  stories,  nobody  has  called.  Well  its  like  this, 
its  more  like  living  in  the  same  street  than  what  it  is 
in  the  same  house,  but  in  Timber  Creek  we  wouldn't 
have  been  in  the  same  street  or  hardly  in  the  same 
town  without  pretty  much  everybody  calling  inside  of 
two  weeks.  But  the  girls  say  they  like  it,  and  that 
it  gives  them  more  of  a  chance  to  choose  their  own 
acquaintance.  Speaking  of  acquaintance,  they  say 
that  New-Yorkers  never  meet  each  other  on  the 
street,  but  if  two  country  fellows  happen  to  be  in 
New  York  at  the  same  time  they  are  sure  to  bump 
against  each  other  before  the  day's  out.  And  that  is 


ABNERJ.  BAYSLEY  TO  REV.  WILLIAM  BAYSLEY.    21 

just  exactly  what  happened  to  me  this  morning  in 
Broadway.  You  remember  the  Widow  Ardith's  boy 
that  went  onto  the  paper  in  Wottoma  ?  Well,  who 
should  I  run  right  into  but  him  day  before  yesterday, 
just  off  the  train  with  his  grip  in  his  hand.  I  told 
him  to  come  round,  and  he  said  he  would,  the  first 
chance  he  got,  and  its  fired  the  girls  all  up,  the  idea 
of  a  gentleman  caller.  He  always  did  dress  pretty 
well  when  he  come  home  from  Wottoma  on  a  visit, 
and  he  was  looking  just  out  of  a  bandbox,  though  he 
never  was  anyways  stuck  up.  If  we  could  get  him 
for  a  boarder  or  to  take  one  of  the  rooms  it  would 
help  out  considerable,  but  the  girls  said  they  would 
have  my  scalp  if  I  dared  to  hint  at  such  a  thing  to 
him,  so  I  am  going  to  lay  low.  Would  say,  take  the 
old  place  William,  and  if  you  cannot  afford  to  pay 
any  rent  till  you  have  disposed  of  your  house,  all 
right ;  you  can  have  it  for  nothing  till  then.  I  know 
you  must  be  uncomfortable  where  you  are,  so  far 
from  your  church,  especially  evening  meetings.  You 
could  send  us  some  of  the  apples.  One  of  them  old 
Rambos  or  Sheeps  Noses  would  taste  good.  Ma  and 
the  girls  joins  me  in  love  to  you  and  Emmeline. 
When  you  write  give  our  love  to  the  rest  of  your 
family.  I  hope  Sally  is  getting  along  all  right. 


22  LETTERS   HOME. 

To    think  of    you    being   a   grandfather    before   me 
when  so  much  younger,  but  so  it  goes. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

AB. 


IV. 

From   Miss    AMERICA    RALSON    to    Miss    CAROLINE 

DESCHENES,  Wottoma. 
My  Dearest  Caro: 

I  owe  you  a  great  many  apologies  for  not  writing 
before  this,  but  if  you  only  knew  all  I  have  been 
through  you  would  not  ask  for  a  single  one.  I 
thought  it  was  bad  enough  when  we  got  here  late  in 
the  spring  after  everybody  one  knows  had  gone  out 
of  town,  but  since  the  season  began  this  fall  it  has 
been  simply  a  whirl.  It  began  with  the  Horse 
Show,  of  course,  and  now  we  are  in  the  midst  of  the 
Dog  Show  which  opened  to-day  with  twelve  hundred 
dogs ;  and  I  thought  I  should  go  insane  with  their 
barking  all  at  once,  and  when  I  got  mother  home,  I 
was  afraid  she  was  going  to  be  down  ill.  But  in  New 
York  you  have  got  to  get  used  to  things,  and  that  is 
what  I  keep  telling  mother,  or  else  go  back  to  Wot 
toma,  where  she  neyer  put  her  nose  out  of  the  house 
23 


24  LETTERS   HOME. 

once  in  a  month,  and  went  to  bed  every  night  at 
nine.  After  the  Dog  Show  there  will  not  be  much 
of  anything  till  the  opera  begins.  Father  has  taken 
a  box  for  the  nights  when  the  owner  does  not  go, 
and  it  is  going  to  cost  him  a  thousand  dollars  for  the 
time  he  has  it. 

We  have  had  a  great  many  cards  already,  and  invi 
tations  to  Teas  and  At  Homes ;  they  seem  to  be  the 
great  thing  in  New  York,  and  I  think  it  is  just  as 
well  to  begin  that  way  till  we  know  the  ropes  a  little 
better.  You  may  be  in  society  all  your  life  in  Wot- 
toma,  and  yet  you  have  got  to  go  slow  in  New  York. 
We  have  been  to  one  dinner  at  a  gentleman's  that 
father  was  thrown  with  in  business,  but  they  seemed 
to  think  we  did  not  want  to  meet  anybody  but 
Western  people ;  and  there  was  nothing  about  it  in 
the  society  column.  Father  had  a  good  time,  for  he 
always  takes  his  good  time  with  him,  and  the  lady 
and  her  daughter  were  as  pleasant  to  me  as  could  be ; 
mother  could  not  be  got  to  go ;  but  I  did  not  come  to 
New  York  to  meet  Western  people,  and  I  shall  think 
over  the  next  invitation  we  get  from  that  house. 
They  are  in  the  Social  Register,  and  so  I  suppose 
they  are  all  right  themselves,  but  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  crowd  of  people  that  came  in  after  dinner,  I 


MISS     RALSON  TO   MISS     DESCHENES.  25 

should  not  have  thought  they  knew  anybody  but 
strangers.  I  should  say  nearly  all  of  these  after- 
dinner  people  were  New-Yorkers ;  there  is  something 
about  the  New  York  way  of  dressing  and  talking  that 
makes  you  know  them  at  once  as  far  as  you  can  see 
them.  I  had  some  introductions,  but  I  did  not  catch 
the  names  any  of  the  time,  and  I  could  not  ask  for 
them  the  way  father  does,  so  I  did  not  know  who  I 
was  talking  with. 

They  all  seemed  to  talk  about  the  theatre,  and  that 
was  lucky  for  me,  because  you  know  I  am  so  fond  of 
it,  and  I  have  been  to  nearly  everything  since  the 
season  began :  Irving,  of  course,  and  Maude  Adams, 
and  John  Drew,  and  "  Colorado,  "  and  "  Way  Down 
East,  "  and  "  Eben  Holden,  "  and  I  don't  know  what 
all.  Father  likes  one  thing  and  I  like  another,  and 
so  we  get  in  pretty  much  all  the  shows.  We  always 
take  a  box,  and  that  gives  father  practice  in  wearing 
his  dress  suit  every  night  for  dinner;  I  could  hardly 
get  him  to  at  first ;  and  he  kept  wearing  his  derby  hat 
with  his  frock  coat  till  I  had  to  hide  it,  and  now  I 
have  to  hide  his  sackcoats  to  keep  him  from  wearing 
them  with  his  top-hat. 

Now,  Caro,  I  know  you  will  laugh,  but  I  will  let 
you  all  you  want  to;  and  I  am  not  going  to  put  on 


26  LETTERS  HOME. 

any  airs  with  you,  for  you  would  know  they  were  airs 
the  minute  you  saw  them.  We  do  bump  along  in 
New  York,  but  we  are  going  to  get  there  all  the  same, 
and  we  mean  to  have  fun  out  of  it  on  the  way. 
Mother  don't  because  it  is  not  her  nature  to,  like 
father's  and  mine.  She  still  thinks  we  are  going  to 
pay  for  it,  somehow,  if  we  have  fun,  but  that  is  only 
the  New  England  in  her,  and  does  not  really  mean 
anything ;  as  I  tell  her,  she  was  not  bred  in  Old  Ken 
tucky,  but  brown  bread  and  baked  beans  in  Old 
Massachusetts,  and  if  ever  she  is  born  again  it  will  be 
in  South  Reading.  The  fact  of  it  is  she  is  lonely, 
with  father  and  me  out  so  much,  and  I  am  trying  to 
make  her  believe  that  she  ought  to  have  a  companion, 
who  can  sit  with  her,  and  read  to  her,  and  chipper 
her  up  when  we  go  out.  I  need  some  one  myself  to 
write  notes  for  me,  and  my  idea  is  that  we  can  make 
one  hand  wash  another  by  having  some  one  to  be  a 
companion  for  mother  who  can  be  a  chaperon  for  me 
when  father  cannot  go  with  me.  We  have  adver 
tised,  and  we  shall  soon  see  whether  the  many  in  one 
that  we  want  will  appear. 

If  she  will  only  appear,  money  will  not  stand  in 
her  way,  for  we  are  long  on  money  whatever  we  are 
short  on.  Father  is  almost  as  much  puzzled  in  New 


MISS     RALSON  TO  MISS     DESCHENES.  27 

York  as  he  was  in  Wottoma  how  to  spend  his  in 
come.  I  am  doing  my  best  to  show  him,  and  when 
we  begin  to  build,  in  the  spring,  I  guess  the  architect 
will  give  him  some  instructions.  His  plans  do  more 
than  anything  else  to  keep  mother  in  good  spirits, 
and  he  has  made  her  believe  she  made  them.  He 
has  made  father  believe  he  owns  him,  and  I  thought 
maybe  /  did  till  he  let  out  one  day  that  there  was 
some  one  else.  Well,  you  can't  have  everything  in 
this  world,  and  I  shall  try  to  rub  along. 

How  would  you  like  to  have  me  rub  along  with  a 
cast-oil  shoe  of  yours  ?  Not  Mr.  Ardith  !  Yes,  Mr. 
Ardith  !  He  turned  up  here,  last  night  about  dinner 
time,  and  we  saw  him  wandering  round  with  a  waiter, 
looking  for  a  vacant  table,  and  trying  to  pretend  that 
he  was  not  afraid,  when  any  one  could  see  that  the 
poor  boy's  heart  was  in  his  mouth.  The  fright  made 
him  look  more  refined  than  ever  with  that  clean 
shaven  face  of  his,  and  his  pretty,  pointed  chin,  and 
his  nice  little  mouth.  He  was  so  scared  that  he  did 
not  know  us,  though  he  was  staring  straight  at  us,  till 
father  got  up  and  sort  of  bulged  down  on  him,  and 
shouted  out,  "Well,  Wottoma,  every  time!"  And 
in  about  a  second,  Mr.  Ardith  was  sitting  opposite 
me,  with  a  napkin  across  his  knees,  and  talking  his 


28  LETTERS   HOME. 

soup  cold  under  the  latest  news  from  home.  Well, 
Caro,  it  was  like  some  of  the  old  South  High  Street 
times,  and  it  made  me  homesick  to  hear  all  the  old 
names.  And  what  do  you  think  father  did  after 
dinner  ?  He  made  Mr.  Ardith  come  up  to  our  rooms, 
and  the  first  thing  I  knew  he  was  asking  him  how  he 
would  like  to  go  to  the  theatre  with  us,  if  he  had 
nothing  better  to  do.  He  made  a  failure  of  trying  to 
think  of  something,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew, 
father  was  bending  over  us  in  the  box  after  the  first 
act,  with  a  hand  on  a  shoulder  apiece  of  us,  (have  I 
got  that  straight  ?)  and  asking  us  if  we  minded  his 
going,  and  letting  us  get  home  at  our  convenience. 
I  looked  up  and  tried  to  frown  him  still,  but  it  was 
no  use.  He  just  said,  "  I'll  send  the  carriage  back 
for  you,  Make,  "  and  went. 

I  don't  believe  Mr.  Ardith  knew  there  was  anything 
unusual  in  it,  and  I  never  let  on.  I  hurried  up  the 
talk,  and  we  talked  pure  literature.  I  saw  I  was  in 
for  it,  and  I  tried  to  make  him  believe  that  I  had  read 
all  the  latest  publications,  and  was  taking  a  course  of 
George  Meredith  between  times.  After  while  he  be 
gan  to  hint  round  after  you,  Caro :  he  did,  honest ! 
He  said  he  supposed  I  heard  from  you,  and  I  said, 
very  rarely ;  you  must  be  so  much  taken  up  with  the 


MISS    RALSON  TO  MISS    DESCHENES.  29 

Wottoma  gayeties.  He  may  have  merely  asked 
about  you  for  a  bluff,  and  to  show  that  he  was  not 
going  to  ask.  He  went  on  and  talked  a  little  more 
about  you,  kind  of  with  a  ten-foot  pole,  and  getting 
further  and  further  off  all  the  time,  till  he  got  clear  to 
New  York,  and  then  he  talked  about  nothing  but 
New  York.  He  is  crazy  about  the  place,  and  sees  it 
as  a  poem,  he  says ;  goodness  knows  what  he  means  ! 
He  got  quite  up  into  the  clouds,  and  he  did  not  come 
down  again  till  we  reached  home. 

I  saw  that  he  wanted  to  do  the  handsome  thing, 
and  I  allowed  him  to  order  some  expensive  food  at 
the  table  we  usually  take,  for  I  knew  that  it  would 
hurt  his  pride  if  I  didn't.  He  seemed  to  have  a  good 
appetite,  but  he  went  on  more  psychologically  than 
ever,  and  I  was  never  so  glad  as  when  he  said  good 
night  to  me  at  our  door — except  when  father  wanted 
him  to  come  in,  and  he  wouldn't.  Yes,  Caro,  Mr. 
Ardith  is  too  many  for  me,  but  I  respect  him,  and  if 
I  could  scratch  up  a  little  more  culture  perhaps  I 
could  more  than  respect  him.  He  certainly  is  a  nice 
boy. 

We  shall  probably  be  at  the  Walhondia,  the  whole 
winter.  You  see  life  here,  and  although  it  is  not  ex 
actly  the  kind  of  New  York  life  that  I  am  after,  it  is 


30  LETTERS   HOME. 

New  York  life,  because  it's  all  strangers.  I  would 
like  you  to  see  it  once,  and  why  couldn't  you  come 
on  and  pay  me  that  visit  ?  I  would  like  nothing  bet 
ter  than  to  blow  in  a  few  thousand  on  a  show  for 
you,  and  ask  the  Four  Hundred  to  meet  you.  Father 
would  believe  they  all  came,  and  he  would  like  the 
blowing-in  anyway.  He  is  not  going  to  die  dis 
graced,  as  Mr.  Carnegie  says,  and  he  can't  die  poor 
if  the  Trust  keeps  soaring  as  it  has  for  the  last  six 
months.  Better  come,  Caro,  for  perhaps  when  we 
get  into  our  new  house  on  the  East  Side  next  winter, 
I  may  not  want  you,  and  now  I  do  want  you.  Come  ! 
I'll  give  a  little  theatre  dinner  for  you,  and  I'll  ask 
Mr.  Ardith.  There ! 

As  we  used   to   say   when   we   thought  we    knew 
French, 

Toute  a  vous, 

MAKE. 

New  York,   December   the   Eighteenth,    Nineteen 
Hundred  and  One. 


V. 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.  ANSEL  G. 
DENNAM,  Lake  Ridge,  New  York. 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  19,  1901. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  have  the  greatest  mind  to  be  like  a  good  girl  in  a 
book,  and  tell  you  that  I  have  got  my  ideal  place ;  I 
know  you  are  so  anxious ;  but  I  guess  I  had  better 
not.  I  am  not  the  least  bit  discouraged,  for  I  am 
sure  to  find  it,  though  it  does  seem  a  little  too  much 
on  the  shrinking  violet  order.  When  I  think  of  the 
number  of  ideal  places  that  I  am  adapted  to,  I  Von- 
der  they  can  all  escape  me ;  and  I  know  I  shall  run 
one  of  them  down  at  last.  There  are  places  which  I 
could  have  got  before  now  if  I  had  not  set  my  mark 
so  high.  Only  yesterday  I  was  offered  a  situation  as 
hello-girl  at  a  telephone  station,  and  I  could  be  sitting 
this  moment  with  the  transmitter  at  my  mouth,  and 
3i 


82  LETTERS    HOME. 

the  receivers  strapped  to  both  ears,  and  looking  as  if 
I  were  just  going  to  be  electrocuted,  if  I  had  chosen. 
Perhaps  I  may  decide  to  go  into  Sunday  journalism. 
How  would  you  like  that — if  you  knew  what  it  was  ? 
My  chum,  Miss  Hally,  is  a  Sunday  journalist,  and 
perfect  bundle  of  energy.  I  believe  she  could  work 
me  in  easily.  She  is  from  the  South,  or  Soath,  as 
she  calls  it,  and  she  is  one  of  these  Southern  women 
you  meet  here  in  New  York,  who  make  JTOU  think 
Southern  women  got  so  much  rest  in  the  old  slavery 
times,  that  they  never  want  to  rest  any  more.  They 
beat  us  poor  Northern  things  all  hollow  in  getting 
places,  and  the  fact  is  that  the  only  place  I've  got 
yet  is  the  place  I  live  in.  That  boarding  house  got 
to  be  a  little  too  much,  and  before  my  week  was  up, 
on  Wednesday,  I  began  prospecting.  Miss  Hally 
went  round  with  me  and  it  was  very  well  she  did, 
because  it  is  easier  to  get  out  of  a  tight  place  if  there 
are  two  of  you,  and  to  make  up  flattering  excuses, 
than  it  is  if  there  is  only  one.  In  New  York  you 
have  to  be  so  careful — you  have  no  idea  in  Lake 
Ridge  how  careful.  Whole  neighborhoods  are  barred, 
and  sometimes  when  the  streets  are  nice  you  have  to 
pass  through  others  that  are  not ;  it's  horrid.  Well, 
it  all  ended,  much  sooner  than  we  could  expect,  in 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  A.    G.  DENNAM.    33 

our  finding  these  two  rooms,  five  pair  up,  in  an 
apartment  with  respectable  people  who  are  glad  to 
let  them,  and  let  us  get  breakfast  in  their  kitchen. 
We  go  out  for  our  lunches  and  dinners  to  a  French 
boarding-house  in  the  neighborhood,  where  the  food 
is  wonderful  and  the  men  all  smoke  cigarettes  at  the 
table;  but  they  do  not  mean  anything  by  it.  Our 
rooms  look  south  over  a  beautiful  landscape  of  chim 
neys,  and  it  is  astonishing  how  all  chimneys  seem  to 
be  out  of  order  and  have  to  have  something  done  to 
them ;  there  is  not  a  perfectly  well  chimney  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  reach.  One  room  we  use  as  a  parlor,  and 
the  other  has  two  let-down  beds  in  it,  and  both  are 
full  of  sun.  It  is  delightful,  and  I  know  things  are 
going  to  turn  out  just  as  I  wish,  for  if  you  wish  hard 
enough  they  have  got  to. 

You  mustn't  fret,  or  else  I  shall  come  home  and 
shake  you.  My  hundred  dollars  will  last  three 
months,  or  I  will  know  the  reason  why.  I  think  I 
will  advertise,  and  get  Miss  Hally  to  go  over  the 
answers  with  me,  and  tell  me  which  ones  I  had  better 
follow  up.  She  knows  New  York  through  and 
through,  and  if  any  one  can  help  me  run  down  my 
ideal  employer  she  can.  I  have  not  swerved  from  a 
single  requirement :  age,  amiability,  opulence,  with  an 


34  LETTERS    HOME. 

eye  on  Europe  in  the  spring.  She  will  not  have  much 
for  me  to  do :  just  notes  to  write,  accounts  to  keep, 
friends  to  receive  and  excuse  her  to,  reading  aloud  in 
the  evenings,  with  a  perfectly  ridiculous  consideration 
for  my  strength,  because  I  am  long  and  rather  limp  and 
slab-sided,  and  must  be  sick ;  I  shall  have  to  over 
come  her  fears  for  my  health  before  she  will  consent 
to  take  me  even  on  trial,  and  nothing  but  something 
strangely  fascinating  in  me  will  help  me  to  win  the 
day.  The  only  condition  she  will  make  is  that  I  shall 
pay  you  a  good  long  visit  in  May,  before  we  sail. 
Perhaps  she  will  let  me  begin  it  before,  if  she  sees  I 
am  homesick,  which  I  shall  not  be,  and  you  needn't 
think  it.  But  1  suppose  the  sunset  still  has  that  bur 
nished  crimson  through  the  orchard  and  over  the  lake, 
and  the  Ridge  woods  are  all  red  in  it,  and  the  vine 
yards  black — how  purple  they  were  with  grapes  when 
I  left !  The  chickens  have  gone  to  roost  in  the  peach 
trees,  and  the  guinea-hens  are  trying  to  make  up  their 
minds  to,  and  you  are  standing  by  the  gate  looking 
wistfully  down  to  the  desolate  depot  for  your  run 
away  girl,  and  wondering  how  she  is.  She  is  very, 
very  well,  mum,  and  she  is  coming  home  with  a 
pocketful  of  money  to  pay  off  that  mortgage.  But 
if  you  stand  there  at  the  gate,  looking  that  way, 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  A.  G.  DENNAM.  35 

mother,  you  will  break  my  heart!  Go  in,  this 
minute,  or  you  will  take  cold,  and  then  what  shall  I 
do  ?  Give  my  love  to  all  inquiring  friends — very  na 
sal  love,  and  not  sweeter  than  you  can  conscientiously 
make  it.  Then  the  neighbors  will  know  that  it  is 
honest.  Love  to  Lizzie,  and  tell  her  to  be  very  good 
to  you. 

Your    affectionate  daughter, 

FRANCES. 


VI. 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM     to    MRS.     A.    G. 
DENNAM,  Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  December  26,  1901. 
Dear  Mother : 

I  was  disappointed  yesterday  in  not  getting  that 
ideal  place  to  send  you  for  a  Christmas  present.  It 
would  have  been  so  nice,  that  I  thought  surely  I 
should  get  it ;  but  you  must  not  lose  faith  in  me,  for 
I  confidently  expect  it  this  week,  and  you  shall  have 
it  on  New  Year's  at  the  latest.  I  may  have  to  tele 
graph  it ;  but  you  will  not  mind  that.  The  truth  is 
the  day  has  been  so  exciting  that  I  did  not  grieve 
much  for  the  ideal  place,  and  my  disappointment  was 
mostly  for  you,  because  I  had  promised  you.  I  was 
almost  entirely  taken  up  with  my  chum,  Miss  Hally, 
who  told  me,  when  we  were  both  in  the  melting  mood 
of  clawing  the  candies  out  of  each  other's  stockings, 
where  we  had  put  them  the  night  before,  all  about 
36 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  A.  G.  DENNAM.    37 

herself,  and  now  I  will  tell  you :  I  forgot  to  before. 
She  is  Miss  Custis  Hally,  and  she  says  her  father 
was  always  opposed  to  slavery,  and  would  not  go 
with  the  rest  when  Virginia  seceded,  but  just  stayed 
on  his  plantation  and  took  no  part  in  the  war.  Miss 
Hally  came  to  New  York,  after  he  died,  and  has 
worked  on  a  newspaper  here,  ever  since.  She  has  got 
one  of  the  best  places  now,  but  I  guess  it  has  been  a 
fight.  She  is  only  forty,  but  her  hair  is  as  white  as 
snow.  She  is  tall  and  straight,  and  beautiful,  with  a 
kind  of  fierceness  in  her  looks,  that  all  breaks  up 
when  she  speaks  of  anything  she  pities,  and  she  has 
been  kinder  to  me  than  I  could  ever  tell  you,  though 
some  day  I  will  try.  She  has  taken  my  case  in  hand, 
and  you  can  count  upon  getting  that  place  from  me 
on  New  Year's  without  fail,  for  I  have  begun  to  have 
answers  to  my  advertisement  already.  None  of  them 
are  just  what  I  wanted,  but  it  is  a  good  deal  for  some 
of  them  to  be  what  I  can  get.  I  needn't  tell  you 
about  them  till  I  have  gone  over  them  with  Miss 
Hally.  She  is  going  to  help  me  boil  them  down  to 
night,  and  I  will  start  out  with  the  residuum  to 
morrow,  and  see  which  I  will  take.  This  sounds 
rather  majestic,  but  it  is  not  as  majestic  as  it  sounds. 
I  have  only  got  two  answers  that  seem  honest;  the 


38  LETTERS     HOME. 

rest  are  fakes  of  one  kind  or  another,  to  get  money 
out  of  me ;  I  can  see  that  for  myself ;  but  I  depend 
upon  Miss  Hally  to  advise  me  about  these  two.  You 
will  soon  hear  from  me,  if  I  have  luck,  and  if  I 
haven't  you  won't  hear  so  soon. 

Your  gift  and  Lizzie's  came  this  morning,  a  day 
after  the  fair,  which  reopened  on  account  of  them. 
I  was  afraid  you  were  going  to  forget  me,  and  when 
you  hadn't,  I  wished  you  had.  When  I  think  of  your 
using  up  your  poor  old  eyes  on  that  collar  for  me,  I 
feel  like  giving  you  a  good  scolding  for  making  me 
cry.  Lizzie's  book-mark  is  beautiful,  and  when  I  get 
to  reading  aloud  to  the  Unknown  Lady  that  I  am 
going  to  be  companion  to,  I  won't  use  any  other.  I 
shall  have  the  collar  on,  and  she  will  try  to  beg  them 
both  of  me,  but  of  course  I  will  be  quite  up  and  dow* 
with  her.  Good-by,  you  dear  ones ! 

Your  loving  daughter  and  sister, 

FRANCES. 


VII. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT, 
Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  18,  1901. 
My  dear  Lincoln : 

I  do  not  want  to  crowd  you  with  personal  intelli 
gence,  but  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night  unless  I  tell 
someone  that  I  have  spent  the  evening  with  our  old 
friends,  the  Ralsons,  or  rather  our  young  friend,  the 
Ralson. 

The  people  at  Lamarque's  would  no  more  think  of 
dressing  for  dinner  than  the  most  exclusive  club  men 
of  Wottoma  (if  there  were  any,)  but  to-night  I  had 
the  ambition  to  see  how  much  a  poor  young  man 
could  dine  for  at  the  Walhondia  and  that  was  why  I 
was  all  right  as  to  clothes  when  I  wandered  into  the 
glittering  banquet  hall,  and  found  the  Ralsons  there. 
I  knew  they  lived  at  the  Walhondia,  and  I  thought  I 
might  stumble  on  them,  but  when  I  did,  I  was  able 
39 


40  LETTERS     HOME 

to  give  a  good  imitation  of  never  being  so  much  sur 
prised  in  my  life.  The  old  gentleman  had  me  down 
at  their  tahle  in  less  time  than  I  can  tell  it ;  and  after 
dinner,  before  I  knew  it,  he  had  me  at  the  theatre 
with  himself  and  America ;  and  then  as  suddenly,  as 
things  happen  in  dreams,  I  was  there  alone  with  her. 
She  seemed  to  think  it  tremendously  exciting,  being 
left  with  me  in  their  box;  and  she  treated  her 
father's  abandoning  us,  on  pretence  of  seeing  a  man 
somewhere  after  the  first  act,  with  a  severity  that 
slipped  from  her  in  one  of  those  fine,  large  yawps  of 
hers.  She  said,  "  O  well,  we're  all  Wottoma  inno 
cents  together,  and  nobody  knows  us,  anyway,  "  and 
I  could  pass  for  her  cousin,  if  not  her  mother  or  aunt, 
or  some  other  elderly  relative ;  and  I  realized  that  she 
was  referring  to  the  chaperonage  that  we  are  always 
reading  about.  After  that  we  proceeded  to  have  a 
good  time,  though  we  put  up  an  icy  front,  that  struck 
a  chill  to  the  beholder,  whenever  we  found  people 
looking  at  us. 

They  looked  at  us  a  good  deal,  and  I  didn't  won 
der,  for  America  is  certainly  beautiful  to  look  at. 
Of  course  that  hair  of  hers  excites  suspicion,  but  a 
woman  has  only  got  to  behave  as  if  she  believed  a 
thing  was  real  herself,  and  she  carries  conviction.  I 


WALLACE    ARDITH     TO    A.     L.    WIBBERT.          41 

could  see  doubt  fade  from  the  opera  glasses  of  the  ob 
servers  at  the  theatre,  and  from  their  eyes  at  supper  af 
terwards  (I  blew  in  about  five  dollars  for  a  few  gilded 
morsels,  when  we  got  back  to  the  hotel),  as  they  set 
tled  down  to  perfect  faith  in  her  particular  rich 
mahogany  shade  of  hair  and  gave  themselves  up  to 
the  joy  of  her  sumptuous  bloom  and  bulk,  as  some 
thing  that  there  could  never  have  been  any  question 
about.  She  was  the  handsomest  girl  in  the  theatre 
and  the  handsomest  in  the  supper  room,  and  she  did 
not  go  half  way  down  her  spine  to  prove  it,  as  some 
of  the  women  did.  I  always  did  think  her  red,  white 
and  blue  gorgeousness  the  richest  type  of  beauty,  even 
when  my  taste  was  more  for  something  dark  and  fine. 
We  got  to  talking  about  my  taste  at  the  theatre,  after 
we  had  gone  over  the  novel  and  the  drama  (she  is 
more  at  home  in  the  drama)  and  I  thought  it  best  to 
make  a  few  careless  inquiries  about  a  Certain  Person. 
The  beauteous  America  corresponds  with  a  Certain 
Person,  but  she  pretended  for  my  comfort  that  she 
had  not  heard  from  her  for  some  time.  She  said  she 
had  asked  a  C.  P.  to  visit  her,  and  she  put  on  ignor 
ance  enough  to  enable  me  to  promise  that  I  would  be 
one  of  a  theatre  party  if  the  C.  P.  came. 

She  said,  when  we  parted  at  the  door  of  her  apart- 


4:2  LETTERS    HOME. 

ment,  that  I  need  not  wait  to  hear  that  the  C.  P.  was 
here  before  calling,  and  from  this  and  other  things 
that  I  have  put  with  it,  I  infer  that  the  divine 
America's  social  progress  in  New  York  has  not  been 
quite  equal  to  her  social  ambition.  I  don't  mean 
that  she  isn't  kind  hearted  enough  to  wish  to  make  it 
pleasant  for  me  here,  but  if  she  had  a  great  many  en 
gagements,  I  doubt  if  she  would  have  so  much  time 
for  a  country  acquaintance.  So  far,  I  should  think 
she  had  seen  New  York  from  her  hotel,  and  that  is 
not  the  best  social  basis,  I  imagine.  Her  hotel  is 
New  York,  in  a  certain  way,  in  the  way  of  being  a 
cluster  of  infinitely  repellant  particles,  as  Emerson 
says,  of  strangers.  But  there  must  be  another  New 
York,  and  I  do  not  believe  she  has  broken  into  that 
yet,  but  this  may  be  because  I  am  so  entirely  on  the 
outside  of  it  myself.  Still  I  am  within  guessing 
distance,  and  what  I  guess  is  that  in  an  old  place  like 
this  there  must  be  a  society  so  sufficient  to  itself  that 
it  need  not  be  at  the  pains  to  be  exclusive,  and  so 
richly  indifferent  to  what  others  can  bring  it  that  no 
amount  of  money  can  affect  its  imagination.  I  have 
an  idea  that  it  might  be  years  before  the  people  of 
such  a  society  would  ever  hear  of  people*  like  the 
Ralsons.  What  could  people  with  great-grandfathers 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.   L    WIBBERT.  43 

in  all  the  old  grave-yards  here,  and  with  family  trees 
to  burn,  want  with  the  Ralsons  ?  That  is  what  has 
begun  to  steal  darkly  in  upon  me  from  the  Ralson 
situation,  and  I  guess  that  the  divine  America,  who 
is  as  sharp  as  she  is  beautiful,  knows  the  facts,  and 
it  is  to  her  credit  that  she  has  not  soured  on 
them.  She  is  as  jolly  as  ever  she  was,  and  she 
is  just  as  determined  to  make  her  way  as  if  it  were 
open  before  her.  Perhaps  it  is,  and  perhaps  I  am 
mistaken. 

Perhaps  if  I  lived  at  the  Walhondia  I  should  see 
things  in  a  different  light.  I  wish  on  some  accounts, 
if  not  others,  that  I  did  live  there,  for  it  is  a  great 
world.  Simply  to  sit  in  the  office,  and  watch  the 
smooth  working  of  the  huge  machine  is  to  store  up 
impressions  for  a  life-time.  The  way  the  clerks,  call- 
boys,  and  porters  operate  the  arriving  and  departing 
guest  is  so  wonderful  in  itself,  that  the  glimpses  of 
the  dining  rooms  and  drawing  rooms,  and  the  over 
dressed  women  guests  trailing  through  the  corriders, 
with  their  underdressed  men  after  them,  and  the  he 
and  she  New  York  swells  of  all  sorts  and  conditions 
who  come  in  for  supper,  (like  myself  !)  are  naughti 
nesses  of  superfluity,  embarrassments  of  riches. 

But  I  must  stop,  merely  adding  that  the  Ralsons 


44  LETTERS     HOME. 

took  me  to  and  from  the  theatre  in  their  electric 
coupe,  and  America  has  just  sent  me  home  in  it ! 
She  wished  her  best  regards  to  you,  Line,  and  she 
seems  to  have  a  soft  place  in  her  spacious  heart  for 
all  Wottoma. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  AEDITH. 


VIII. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Dec.  19,  1901. 
My  dear  Line : 

I  have  a  misgiving  that  my  letter  of  last  night  im 
plied  a  sort  of  a  slight  for  America  Ralson  which  I 
certainly  do  not  feel.  She  has  lots  of  sense,  and  is 
as  fine  as  she  is  frank  in  the  things  that  become  a 
girl.  That  is,  she  is  not  changed  from  what  you 
knew,  and  if  anything  I  wrote  gave  merely  the  im 
pression  of  her  physical  beauty,  it  was  unfair  to  her 
and  disgraceful  to  me.  I  had  no  right  to  speculate 
about  her  society  prospects  even ;  they  may  be  all 
she  could  wish,  and  still  leave  her  time  and  place  for 
kindness  to  me,  unworthy.  I  never  liked  the  Ralson 
money,  but  I  must  say  that  it  seems  to  crowd  my 
imagination  less  in  New  York  than  it  did  in 
Wottoma,  and  that  in  old  Ralson's  civility  to  me  last 
night  I  thought  there  was  more  personal  friendliness 
45 


46  LETTERS     HOME. 

than  I  had  realized  in  him  before.  He  is  coarse,  but 
he  is  not  hard,  and  where  there  is  any  little  question 
of  his  being  good  to  his  wife  or  daughter,  he  is  not 
so  coarse  as  at  other  times.  These  are  the  hasty 
conclusions  of  a  man  who  has  eaten  his  canvas-back 
and  drunken  his  claret,  and  ridden  in  his  electric. 
They  might  not  stand  the  test  of  greater  experience, 
but  though  I  own  that  he  is  the  sort  of  man  born  to 
make  money,  I  do  not  believe  he  is  altogether  selfish, 
or  at  least  that  he  is  incapable  of  self-sacrifice  where 
his  loving,  or  even  his  liking  lies.  If  he  did  not  love 
you  or  like  you  no  doubt  he  would  be  capable  of  an 
other  sort  of  sacrifice  in  which  he  would  not  figure  as 
the  offering. 

As  yet  I  do  not  know  how  many  opportunities  I 
shall  have  for  studying  him  (he  would  be  great  ma 
terial)  for  I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  be  living  at 
the  Wolhondia.  The  humiliating  fact  is,  I  have  done 
the  very  thing  I  should  not  have  done  if  I  had  not 
been  more  of  an  ass  than  I  am  willing  to  allow. 

You  remember  old  man  Baysley,  who  used  to  come 
from  Timber  Creek  up  to  Wottoma,  in  the  infant 
days  of  Ralson's  Trust  ?  Well,  he  is  living  now — he 
would  say  "  residing, "  and  it's  hardly  living — in 
New  York  where  he  has  some  employment  from  the 


W.    ARDITH    TO     A,    L.    WIBBERT.  47 

Cheese  and  Churn  Trust,  and  is  as  lonesome  as  a  cat 
in  a  strange  garret.  As  luck  would  have  it,  he  was 
about  the  first  human  being  out  of  two  or  three  mil 
lions  that  I  struck  against  when  I  got  out  of  my  train 
when  I  arrived,  and  he  made  me  promise  to  come 
and  see  "  the  folks.  "  At  the  same  time  I  promised 
myself  that  I  would  not  do  it,  but  in  about  a  week  I 
ran  across  him  again  and  then  I  was  in  for  it.  He 
took  me  home  with  him  "  to  supper  " — they  dine  at 
twelve  o'clock,  just  as  they  did  in  Timber  Creek, — 
and  Mrs.  Baysley  was  so  pitifully  glad  to  see  me,  and 
the  girls  so  proudly  glad,  that  I  was  rather  glad  my 
self.  I  never  really  saw  much  of  them  at  home, 
though  I  went  to  school  with  the  girls  when  we  were 
children ;  but  country  makes  kind,  and  before  I  knew 
it,  I  was  sitting  before  their  radiator  with  them, 
swapping  reminiscences,  and  making  the  old  people 
laugh ;  such  simple  old  souls,  and  so  willing  to  laugh  ! 
The  father  and  mother  each  confided  to  me  how 
homesick  the  other  was,  and  the  girls  said  they  did 
not  think  New  York  was  half  as  nice  as  Timber 
Creek,  to  live  in,  though  it  would  be  a  great  place  to 
come  to,  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  winter. 

When    I    got   up    to  go,  Mrs.   Baysley  said,    now 
father  must  show  me  the  flat.    But  they  all  followed 


48  LETTERS     HOME 

through  it  with  me — six  little  boxes  of  rooms,  count 
ing  the  parlor  and  the  girls'  bed-room  portiered  off  it 
as  two.  The  whole  place  was  furnished  with,  their 
poor  old  Timber  Creek  things  citified  up,  and  their 
home  carpets  cut  into  rugs.  They  took  me  last  into 
the  "  spare-room  "  at  the  back  of  the  flat,  and  when 
the  old  lady  let  out  that  they  really  had  more  room 
than  they  wanted,  for  all  the  place  seemed  so  small, 
and  the  old  man  looked  anxious,  and  the  girls  hung 
their  heads,  the  time  had  come  for  me  to  make  an 
ass  of  myself,  and  I  asked  what  was  the  matter  with 
my  taking  that  room.  They  made  some  decent  de 
mur,  but  not  much,  and  we  agreed  on  three  dollars  a 
week ;  and  here  I  am,  pretty  far  up  on  the  west  side 
of  Central  Park,  about  a  block  and  a  half  from  one 
of  the  gates,  so  that  I  can  get  in  and  meditate  the 
thankless  muse,  as  easily  as  I  could  from  my  hotel, 
where  I  was  paying  seven  dollars  a  week  for  my 
room,  without  the  sun,  or  the  view  of  the  neighbor 
hood  wash  which  I  have  here  for  less  than  half  the 
money.  The  wash  hangs  from  lines  supported  upon 
lofty  flag  staffs,  behind  the  house,  and  it  is  very  gay ; 
if  we  are  five  flights  up,  still  the  halls  and  stairs  are 
carpeted  in  a  kind  of  blood-red  tapestey  brussels  the 
whole  way :  Mrs.  Baysley  is  very  proud  of  that  car- 


W.    ARDITH    TO     A.    L.    WIBBERT.  49 

peting,  though  it  is  not  hers.  When  I  want  to  get  in 
I  touch  a  bell-button  in  the  vestibule,  and  they  free 
the  latch  by  a  sort  of  electric  arrangement  in  their 
flat ;  but  the  old  man  promises  me  a  latch-key  when 
he  can  get  round  to  it.  When  I'm  late,  he  sits  up 
and  lets  me  in,  and  the  girls  keep  breakfast  for  me 
long  after  he  has  gone  down  town  next  morning.  I 
breakfast  here,  and  browse  about  for  lunch  and  din 
ner,  and  accumulate  material.  Now  and  then  I  take 
a  turn  at  that  Central  Park  incident  of  the  lovers.  I 
have  tried  it  as  an  idyl,  in  hexameters,  and  as  a 
Thackeray  ballad,  and  I  have  tried  it  in  prose ;  and  it 
is  getting  as  tough  as  a  piece  of  bear's  meat  which 
the  more  you  chew  it  the  more  you  can't  swallow  it. 
But  I  don't  despair,  and  won't,  as  long  as  you  let  me 

sign  myself 

Your  friend, 

W.  A. 


IX. 

I 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to   MRS.    DENNAM, 
Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  10,  1902. 
Well,  mother  dear: 

I  have  got  it !  I've  just  sent  you  a  telegram,  (I 
knew  they  would  make  you  pay  fifteen  cents  for 
bringing  it  up  from  the  station,)  so  as  to  take  away 
the  taste  of  my  last  two  or  three  gloomy  letters  as 
soon  as  possible ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all 
about  it.  When  I  told  you  the  failure  of  those  two 
places,  that  I  went  to  look  at  with  Miss  Hally,  I  was 
so  down-hearted  that  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do ;  I 
wanted  to  give  up,  and  take  the  first  train  home,  and 
try  for  a  school  again.  But  I  used  all  the  proverbs  I 
could  put  my  mind  on,  and  I  said  my  prayer  when  I 
went  to  bed,  just  like  a  little  girl,  and  cried  into  my 

pillow  like  a  big  one,  and  woke  the  next  morning  as 
50 


MISS    FRANCES    DENNAM    TO    MRS.    DENNAM.     51 

bold  as  brass.  I  went  down  town  and  put  in  a 
new  advertisement  setting  forth  my  gifts  and  accom 
plishments,  bought  all  the  papers,  and  read  their 
"  wanteds "  over  my  lunch  at  the  Woman's  Ex 
change  ;  and  that  night  I  got  Miss  Hally  to  go  over 
them  with  me.  We  got  a  good  deal  of  forlorn  fun 
out  of  it,  but  not  much  encouragement,  and  then 
Miss  Hally  proposed  a  still  hunt,  as  she  called  it. 
We  put  aside  two  or  three  selected  wanteds  that  we 
decided  to  investigate  and  see  if  they  were  deserving ; 
and  Miss  Hally  said  she  would  begin  the  still  hunt  at 
once,  by  writing  letters  to  half  a  dozen  different  peo 
ple  who  might  or  might  not  be  looking  for  a  prize  of 
my  description,  and  offer  them  a  chance  in  the  raffle. 
She  said  this  sort  of  thing  would  take  time,  but  the 
results,  even  if  they  were  failures  would  be  more  sat 
isfactory  than  the  other  failures  we  had  made.  She 
looked  awfully  treed,  for  she  had  been  writing  out 
a  long  story,  as  she  called  it — a  biography-interview 
with  a  new  English  lecturess  who  has  just  come 
ashore — but  she  kindled  up  at  the  chance  of  killing 
herself  for  me,  and  when  she  put  me  out  for  the 
night  she  kind  of  held  me  off  by  both  shoulders,  and 
then  pulled  me  up  and  kissed  me,  for  luck,  as  she 
said.  I  was  so  overcome  that  I  could  not  even  shed 


52  LETTERS     HOME. 

a  tear ;  I  just  gasped,  and  took  it  in  frozen  silence, 
like  a  true  Lake  Ridger. 

It  seemed  to  do  as  well  as  anything,  though,  so 
far  as  the  luck  was  concerned,  I  got  to  thinking 
afterwards  that  perhaps  it  was  not  the  right  kind  of 
kiss.  The  still  hunt  turned  out  as  badly  as  the  kind 
of  gunning  in  the  newspaper  did  when  I  first  began 
to  advertise,  and  when  I  felt  as  if  everybody  could 
see  and  hear  me.  Days,  weeks,  went  by  just  as  they 
do  in  novels  when  the  author  wants  to  skip ;  and  yes 
terday  I  got  word  from  the  public  telephone  at  our 
corner  drug  store  that  there  was  some  one  on  the 
wire  for  me.  You  can  bet,  (or  you  could,  if  you  ever 
did,)  that  I  didn't  let  the  grass  grow  under  my  feet, 
either  on  the  stairs  down  to  the  door,  or  in  the  street 
outside.  Somehow  I  just  knew  that  this  time  I  was 
it ;  and  sure  enough  I  found  it  was  Miss  Hally  on  the 
wire.  She  was  calling  me  from  the  Hotel  Walhondia 
and  she  wanted  to  know  if  I  could  come  right  down, 
and  I  said  I  could  come  like  lightning,  and  she 
told  me  to  inquire  for  Miss  Ralson  and  I  would  find 
her  there  too. 

Well,  I  don't  know  how  I  got  to  the  hotel  or  how 
I  lived  through  sending  my  name  from  the  office,  and 
then  followed  it ;  but  before  I  wanted  to  be  I  was  in- 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       53 

side  the  Ralson  apartment.  Of  course  by  that  time 
I  was  in  my  usual  frosty  calm  with  strangers ;  but  I 
tried  to  limber  up  enough  to  answer  Miss  Ralson's 
questions,  and  to  realize  that  Miss  Hally  was  going 
away  and  leaving  us  to  each  other  as  soon  as  the 
questions  began.  She  gave  me  a  squeeze  of  the  hand 
that  said  it  was  all  right,  and  I  felt  how  nice  it  was 
of  her  not  to  stay  and  hear  that  I  wouldn't  do  if  I 
happened  not  to.  Miss  Ralson  was  pretty  tremendous 
at  first,  and  from  time  to  time  she  was  tremendous  as 
we  went  on,  but  every  now  and  then  she  broke  down, 
and  was  not  half  so  awful  as  I  was.  I  think  she  saw 
that  if  she  was  to  get  at  me  at  all,  she  would  have  to 
thaw  me  out  to  begin  with.  She  asked  me  whether  I 
had  been  to  luncheon,  and  when  I  made  out  to 
remember  I  hadn't,  she  said  she  thought  we  could 
talk  so  much  better  over  a  little  lunch,  and  she 
ordered  her  maid  to  order  it  served  to  us  there ;  and 
all  the  time  she  kept  on  talking,  and  now  and  then 
breaking  into  the  largest  kind  of  laugh.  She  has  a 
head  of  dark  red  hair,  and  the  bluest  blue  eyes,  and 
white  cheeks  with  soft  pink  in  them,  and  she  is  built 
on  the  sky-scraping  plan  of  the  new  girl,  with 
shoulders  and  a  neck  to  beat  the  band.  I  have  got  a 
fresh  supply  of  slang  from  Miss  Ralson,  for  after  we 


54  LETTERS     HOME. 

cosied  down  to  the  lunch,  she  talked  so  much  of  it 
that  I  had  to  talk  it  too  or  seem  impolite,  and  I  was 
not  going  to  do  that.  But  she  is  business,  every- 
time,  in  spite  of  her  ups  and  downs  of  manner,  and 
I  can  tell  you  she  put  me  through  my  paces  pretty 
thoroughly. 

She  said  that  they  wanted  me  to  be  a  companion 
to  her  mother,  #nd  read  to  her  and  amuse  her  any 
way  I  could  when  she  and  her  father  could  not  be  at 
home  with  her.  But  they  did  not  want  me  for  that 
alone ;  she  needed  a  secretary  to  write  her  notes,  and 
keep  track  of  her  engagements,  and  to  go  with  her 
where  a  chaperon  was  not  exactly  needed,  but  two 
girls  would  do.  She  asked  me  if  I  would  just  write 
her  a  little  note,  then  and  there,  and  say  whether  I 
liked  the  notion,  and  what  salary  I  should  expect ;  she 
must  have  talked  that  point  over  with  Miss  Hally,  for 
she  said  I  could  mention  twelve  hundred  if  I  liked. 
She  put  me  down  at  her  desk  with  some  note  paper, 
and  went  away  to  the  window,  while  I  struggled  with 
the  note,  and  she  kept  coming  back  to  see  if  I  had 
finished.  When  I  had,  she  looked  pretty  hard  at  it, 
and  compared  it  with  some  notes  she  had  received, 
and  then  she  said,  Yes,  that  would  do  first-rate.  She 
asked  me  if  I  was  sure  about  the  spelling,  because  she 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       55 

always  spelt  salary  with  two  11s,  and  she  offered  to 
bet  me  what  I  dared  that  hers  was  the  right  way. 
We  referred  it  to  the  dictionary  leaves  in  her  porte- 
folio,  and  I  won,  of  course,  but  we  had  forgot  to  say 
what  we  had  bet,  and  so  I  didn't  win  anything  but 
the  bet.  She  seemed  perfectly  delighted,  and  she 
said  that  if  there  was  anything  she  did  envy  another 
person  it  was  spelling ;  and  now  she  felt  sure  of  me, 
if  I  thought  I  could  get  along  with  her  mother. 

She  took  me  to  her  mother  in  the  next  room,  and 
introduced  me,  and  I  had  a  wicked  pleasure  in  seeing 
that  Mrs.  Ralson  was  more  scared  than  I  was.  She 
is  a  very  small  old  lady,  not  the  least  like  her  daugh 
ter,  and  she  began  to  question  me  about  where  I  came 
from,  and  my  family,  and  whether  I  was  homesick, 
and  didn't  I  think  New  York  was  an  awful  place.  I 
agreed  to  everything,  and  that  seemed  to  cheer  her 
up  considerably,  and  she  showed  me  the  photograph 
of  their  house  in  Wottoma,  Iowa,  where  they  came 
from,  and  said  it  was  considered  the  most  beautiful 
"  home  "  in  the  place.  She  pointed  out  the  windows 
of  her  room,  which  Mr.  Ralson  had  planned  for  her, 
and  furnished  himself,  for  a  surprise,  before  she  ever 
went  into  it,  and  she  had  never  changed  a  thing.  It 
was  before  they  had  formed  the  Cheese  and  Churn 


56  LETTERS   HOME, 

Trust,  and  always  expected  to  live  in  Wottoma,  but 
afterwards  nothing  would  do  America  but  to  come  to 
New  York.  That  was  better  than  Europe,  anyway, 
where  they  had  spent  a  year ;  and  now  Mr.  Ralson 
had  bought,  up  between  Fifth  Avenue  and  Madison, 
and  they  were  going  to  build  in  the  spring,  and  she 
supposed  they  should  always  live  here,  but  she  pre 
ferred  Wottoma,  herself,  where  you  could  have  some 
ground  around  you,  and  everybody  was  neighborly. 
Well,  mother,  it  made  me  a  little  homesick  to  hear 
her  go  on,  and  I  showed  that  I  felt  for  her,  and  be 
fore  we  got  through,  we  were  old  friends,  and  she 
said  she  knew  we  could  get  on  together  first-rate,  and 
she  would  not  work  me  too  hard,  and  I  must  not  let 
Make.  Make  was  a  good  girl,  but  she  was  thought 
less,  and  wanted  to  be  on  the  go  the  whole  while. 
She  got  to  talking  of  Miss  Ralson  by  her  nickname, 
(her  whole  name  is  America)  and  of  her  husband  by 
his  first  name,  and  she  was  so  helplessly  humble  and 
simple,  that  I  was  glad  her  daughter  had  gone  out  of 
the  room,  for  I  am  afraid  she  would  have  checked 
her,  and  I  wouldn't  have  liked  that.  Mrs.  Ralson  is 
New  England  born,  and  I  told  her  you  were  too,  and 
then  she  seemed  to  think  I  was.  I  explained  how 
Lake  Ridge  was  settled  from  New  England,  and  she 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       57 

said  that  if  we  were  the  same  kind  of  people,  it  came 
to  the  same  thing. 

It  is  all  as  different  from  what  I  had  planned,  as 
could  be,  but  I  am  not  so  sorry  as  I  would  have  sup 
posed.  The  Ralsons  are  not  an  old  Knickerbocker 
family,  with  stately,  highbred  ways,  and  old  ma 
hogany  sideboards  and  ancestral  silver,  but  they  will 
be,  if  they  live  here  long  enough ;  and  I  shall  get  on 
with  them  much  better  as  they  are  at  present.  Per 
haps  an  old  Knickerbocker  family  would  not  have 
much  use  for  me ;  and  I  shall  have  a  better  chance  to 
grow  up  with  the  country  here  if  I  begin  with  an  old 
Wottoma  family.  They  may  rot  send  me  to  Europe 
for  my  health,  but  I  think  they  will  let  me  go  out  to 
see  you  in  May,  about  apple-blossom  time,  with  a 
pocket  full  of  money  for  the  June  interest.  How 
thankful  I  ought  to  be,  and  how  thankful  I  am  !  I  am 
going  to  do  everything  I  can  to  deserve  my  good  for 
tune,  and  you  need  not  be  afraid  to  hear  of  my 
misbehaving !  It  is  all  settled  that  I  am  to  begin 
earning  my  salary,  with  two  11s,  tomorrow.  The  ar 
rangement  is  for  me  to  keep  on  here  with  Miss  Hally, 
and  not  to  live  with  the  Ralson's,  till  they  get  into 
their  house.  When  they  keep  me  too  late  for  me  to 
get  home  alone,  they  will  send  me  in  their  automobile 


58  LETTERS    HOME. 

or  get  me  a  room  in  the  hotel.  The  way  they  don't 
mind  money,  takes  my  breath  away.  After  I  got 
through  with  her  mother  to-day,  Miss  Ralson  asked 
me  how  I  would  like  to  go  shopping  with  her  a  little 
while,  and  in  about  two  hours  I  saw  her  spend  a 
thousand  dollars.  She  bought  anything  she  fancied, 
and  some  things  that  she  didn't  fancy,  as  she  found 
out  later.  But  she  said  you  could  always  exchange 
them,  and  if  you  couldn't  you  could  get  rid  of  them 
somehow.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have  a  Cheese  and 
Churn  Trust  for  a  father.  I  have  not  seen  him,  yet, 
but  Mrs.  Ralson  says  Miss  Ralson  is  his  "perfect 
image, "  and  they  are  just  alike,  every  way. 

I  feel  as  if  I  had  not  said  anything,  and  were  hor 
rid  and  unthankful,  and  I  don't  know  what  all.  But 
you  musn't.  Tell  Lizzie  that  if  she  is  very,  very 
good,  I  will  let  her  have  some  of  my  old  things  as 
soon  as  I  have  any  new  ones. 

With  best  love  to  you  both, 

FRANCES. 


X. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Jarfy  10,  1902. 
You  dear  old  fellow : 

You  really  mustn't  print  things  from  my  letters, 
unless  you  want  to  take  the  frankness  out  of  me.  I 
can't  write  to  all  Wottoma  as  ingenuously  as  I  write 
to  you ;  I  can  understand  your  grief  at  having  my  good 
things  wasted  on  you  alone,  but  I  really  can't  let  you 
share  my  bounty  with  the  public.  If  the  Day  people 
were  to  ask  me  for  New  York  letters,  and  were 
to  offer  me  decent  pay  for  them,  that  would  be 
something  to  consider — and  refuse ;  for  I  am  going  to 
devote  myself  to  pure  literature  here,  at  least  till  I 
starve  at  it ;  and  I  can't  let  the  Day  have  my  impres 
sions  for  nothing,  or  next  to  it. 

I  wish  I  had  put  them  down,  as  I  felt  them,  from 

moment  to  moment  since  I  arrived,  but  perhaps  they 

will  be  full  enough  in  my  letters ;  of  course  you  will 

keep  my  letters,   and  let  me  recover  them  as  material 

59 


60  LETTEKS  HOME. 

for  my  epic,  later  on.  New  York  gains  in  epicality 
every  day,  and  the  wonder  is  that  I  don't  get  familiar 
with  it :  I  get  more  and  more  strange.  The  novelty 
of  it  is  simply  inexhaustible,  and  the  drama  of  its 
tremendous  being  is  past  all  saying.  The  other  day, 
as  I  was  walking  up  town  after  a  cup  of  tea  with  the 
sumptuous  America  at  her  hotel,  I  struck  into  Broad 
way,  and  abandoned  myself  to  the  spectacle  of  the 
laborers  digging  the  foundations  for  a  sky-scraper  at 
one  of  the  corners.  They  had  scooped  forty  or  fifty 
feet  into  the  earth,  below  the  cellars  of  the  old 
houses  they  had  torn  down,  and  were  drilling  into 
the  everlasting  rock  with  steam  drills.  A  whole  hive 
of  men  were  let  loose  all  over  the  excavation,  pitching 
the  earth  and  broken  stones  into  carts,  lifting  the 
carts  by  derricks  to  the  level  of  the  street,  and  hitch 
ing  the  horses  to  them,  and  working  the  big  steam 
shovels  hanging  from  the  derricks,  and  the  engines 
were  snorting  and  chuckling  and  the  wheels  grinding, 
and  the  big  horses  straining  and  the  men  silently 
shouting  at  them, — the  whole  thing  muted  by  the 
streaming  feet  of  the  multitude,  and  the  whine  of  the 
trolleys,  and  the  clatter  of  the  wagons,  and  the  crash 
and  roar  of  the  elevated  trains ;  and  pretty  soon,  a 
mud-covered  Italian  ran  out  of  the  depths  with  a  red 


WALLACE    ABDITH    TO     A.    L.    WIBBERT.          61 

flag,  and  the  rest  ran  to  cover,  and  puff !  went  a  blast 
that  tore  up  tons  of  rock,  and  made  no  more  of  a  dint 
in  the  great  mass  of  noise  than  if  it  had  been  the  jet 
of  white  vapor  that  it  looked  like.  Life  here  is  on 
such  a  prodigious  scale,  and  it  is  going  on  in  so  many 
ways  at  once  that  the  human  atom  loses  the  sense  of 
its  own  little  aches  and  pains,  and  merges  its  weak 
ness  in  the  strenuousness  of  the  human  mass. 

I  suppose  that  is  the  reason  why  literature,  as  a 
New  York  interest,  affects  me  less  in  New  York  than 
it  did  in  Wottoma.  I  know  here,  as  I  knew  there, 
that  this  is  a  literary  centre,  and  now  and  then  I 
catch  a  glimpse  of  authorship  in  the  flesh.  But 
either  because  the  other  interests  dwarf  the  literary 
interests,  or  because  literature  is  essentially  subjec 
tive,  it  is,  so  far,  disappointingly  invisible  and 
intangible.  Some  of  the  young  fellows  dine  at 
Lamarque's,  and  have  a  table  to  themselves  in  one 
corner,  where  they  talk  and  smoke ;  but  I  don't  know 
any  of  them  yet,  and  I  haven't  quite  the  gall  to  make 
up  to  them.  I  suppose  there  must  be  literary  houses 
where  authors  meet ;  but  I  have  not  begun  to  frequent 
them,  and  in  my  dearth  of  poets  I  try  to  make  out 
with  the  poem  which  I  find  more  and  more  in  the 
personality  of  the  divine  America, 


62  LETTERS  HOME. 

In  fact,  I  am  seeing  a  good  deal  of  the  Ralsons, 
these  days ;  or  they  are  seeing  a  good  deal  of  me.  I 
seem  to  represent  home  and  mother  to  Mrs.  Ralson, 
and  she  claims  part  of  every  call  I  make  at  the  Wal- 
hondia  for  a  terribly  long  talk  about  Wottoma; 
though,  as  for  calling,  I  am  mostly  there  by  invitation 
to  all  the  meals  of  the  day,  including  supper  after 
the  theatre  or  opera. 

America  has  set  up  a  secretary  for  herself  and  a 
companion  for  her  mother  in  the  single  person  of  a 
girl  from  western  New  York,  somewhere,  who  does 
duty  as  a  dragon  when  Ralson  is  away,  or  cannot  be 
pressed  into  the  service.  She  doesn't  look  like  a 
dragon  exactly  ;  in  fact,  with  her  shyness  and  brown- 
ness  of  hair  and  dress,  she  makes  me  think  of  a  quail 
and  its  dead-leaf  plumage;  and  she  has  a  way  of 
slipping  under  cover  which  I  think  would  not  be 
finally  inconsistent  with  an  ability  to  peck.  To  tell 
the  truth,  as  nearly  as  I  can  make  out  on  such  short 
notice,  the  secretary-companion  and  I  were  born 
doubtful  of  each  other  ;  though  I  should  be  puzzled  to 
say  why.  She  seems,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  to  look 
with  a  censorious  eye  upon  America's  frank  friendli 
ness  for  me  as  something  very  mistakenly  bestowed. 
This  naturally  puts  me  on  my  most  cynical  behavior ; 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  63 

I  say  nothing  but  heartless  things  in  the  secretary's 
presence ;  and  if  it  goes  on  I  shall  turn  out  a  hardened 
worldling,  and  be  marrying  America  for  her  money 
before  I  know  it.  In  view  of  this  novel  character,  I 
do  not  understand  how  it  is  that  the  Mayor  has  not 
put  me  on  the  committee  for  the  reception  of  Prince 
Henry.  I  think  I  could  be  guilty  of  a  base  servility 
that  would  satisfy  the  secretary's  worst  expectation. 
You  must  not,  by  the  way,  imagine  that  New  York 
is  as  hysterical  about  the  prince's  visit  as  the  newspa 
pers  make  her  appear.  Journalism,  my  dear  Lincoln, 
I  do  not  mind  confiding  to  you,  now  I  have  left  it,  is 
feminine ;  it  likes  to  talk,  and  to  hear  itself  talk,  and 
it  does  not  mind  what  the  topic  is :  it  can  be  as  shrill 
and  voluble  about  one  thing  as  another.  But  I  assure 
you  that  between  the  morning  and  the  evening  edi 
tions,  there  are  long  moments  when  we  forget  the 
prince  altogether  and 

"Shouldn't  hardly  notice  it  at  all," 
in  the  words  of  Dockstader's  latest  song,  if  he  forgot 

to  come. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  A. 


XL 

From  MR.  OTIS  BINNING  to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 
Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  11,  1902. 
My  dear  Margaret : 

If  it  surprises  you  to  find  this  post-marked  New 
York,  instead  of  London,  I  confess  that  it  rather 
puzzles  me  to  explain  why  I  have  no  more  taken  the 
steamer  for  Liverpool  than  the  train  for  Boston.  I 
can  merely  say  that  New  York  has  given  me  pause, 
which  is  the  last  thing  one  would  expect  New  York 
to  do.  Three  weeks  ago  I  might  have  thought  that  I 
knew  the  place,  but  now  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can 
more  than  conjecture  it  a  little  bit,  or  throw  out  a 
vague  suggestion  or  two  at  it.  I  might  analyze  ac 
curately  enough,  but  the  fancy  of  synthetizing  has 
grown  upon  me,  and  to  synthetize  New  York  is 
impossible. 

At  least  it  is  impossible  for  a  Bostonian,  of  the 
64 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MI1S.    WALTER  BINNING.  65 

Boston  which,  if  it  was  as  we  believed  it,  is  now  cer 
tainly  no  more.  We  were  (forgive  the  aoristic 
preterite ;  it  is  crueler  for  me  than  it  is  for  you!)  im 
mensely,  intensely,  personal,  and  the  note  of  New 
York  is  impersonality.  If  you  wish  to  lose  yourself, 
this  is  the  shop ;  if  you  wish  to  find  yourself,  better 
go  somewhere  else.  Our  quality,  and  the  defect  of 
our  quality,  in  that  obsolete  Boston,  was  from  the 
wish  to  find  ourselves,  always.  Here  I  feel  resolved 
into  my  elements  at  times,  in  a  measure  which  I  do 
not  believe  would  happen  to  me  even  in  London  or 
Paris.  I  am  mere  humanity ;  worse,  I  am  mere  mor 
tality,  as  some  one  said  of  the  people  in  Maeterlinck's 
little  mysteries,  and  I  meet  my  fellow  mortals  in  a 
sort  of  reciprocal  dispersal ;  and  yet,  when  I  freely 
accept  the  conditions,  the  experience  is  rather  pleas 
ing.  You  will  not  believe  it,  or  at  least  you  will  not 
believe  it  of  me,  and  you  could  not  acquire  faith 
without  coming  here  and  staying  rather  longer  than 
you  are  ever  likely  to  do. 

It  is  not  that  people  do  not  talk  of  people  in  New 
York,  but  they  do  not  talk  of  them  in  our  way,  as 
acquaintance  from  the  cradle  up,  by  their  nicknames 
or  pet  names,  with  a  constant  sense  of  their  lurking 
cousinship.  There  is  of  course,  this  sort  of  intimacy 


66  LETTERS    HOME. 

here,  but  it  does  not  quite  turn  the  sojourner  out  of 
doors.  I  have  been  to  your  Van  der  Doeses,  and  they 
have  been  hospitable,  but  they  did  not  make  me  feel 
that  I  mattered.  I  did  not  wish  to  matter,  and  yet 
an  expectation  of  that  sort  ought  to  be  imagined. 
They  were  very  light,  as  people  of  the  old  Dutch 
blood  are  apt  to  be  (the  Dutch  Calvinism  was  so  very 
different  from  our  Puritanism  !)  and  though  they  had 
the  evidences  of  refinement  about  them,  I  had  some 
how  a  fear  that  they  might  any  moment  begin  asking 
conundrums.  I  do  not  know  how  else  to  put  it,  and 
I  am  afraid  my  meaning  will  not  be  perfectly  clear  to 
you.  Is  it  possible  that  there  was  something  in  the 
air  of  our  elder  Boston,  breathed  from  the  interstellar 
spaces  where  our  lights  of  literature  and  learning,  of 
poetry  and  philosophy  shone  so  long,  which  pene 
trated  our  psychical  substance  as  nothing  of  the  kind 
has  the  New  Yorkers'  ? 

One  curious  experience  as  a  Bostonian  has  come  to 
me  from  these  New  Yorkers  through  their  remote  ver 
ification  of  the  fact  that  we  Bostonians  are  no  longer 
so  literary  or  philosophic  as  we  once  were.  In  that 
former  time  they  imagined  us  lettered  pedants  or 
transcendantal  cranks,  and  they  laughed  at  their  no 
tion  of  us.  Now  they  have  somehow  (their  unintel- 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING.    67 

ligence  is  baffling)  caught  on  to  a  change  in  us,  and 
they  no  longer  smile  at  our  queerness ;  they  no  longer 
think  of  us  at  all ;  we  suggest  nothing  to  them.  This 
is  putting  it  rather  crudely,  and  it  is  saying  it  in  ex 
cess,  of  course,  but  a  sad  truth  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
the  well  in  which  I  hope  this  may  not  make  you 
wish  to  drown  yourself. 

At  the  Van  der  Doeses'  I  could  naturally  meet  none 
but  their  own  kind ;  but  they  have  been  retrospec 
tively  more  attentive  than  they  actually  were,  and 
they  have  taken  me  with  them  to  several  functions, 
and  had  cards  sent  me  for  others,  where  I  have  seen 
a  greater  variety  of  my  fellow  mortals.  You  know  I 
never  scorned  those  simple  at-homes  and  teas  which 
most  men  disdain,  and  now  when  dinners  rather  take 
it  out  of  me,  I  have  been  going  to  afternoon  recep 
tions  with  more  than  my  earlier  ardor.  I  have  had 
my  reward,  for  I  have  met  there  some  agreeable 
women  (rather  too  shrieky ;  but  the  noise  is  great)  and 
such  men  of  aesthetic  employment  as  business  does 
not  hold  in  its  grip  quite  till  dinner.  At  the  house 
of  an  editor  who  has  made  so  much  money  with  his  pa 
per  (The  Signal',  its  name  would  say  nothing  to  you; 
but  it  has  been  rather  dreadful)  that  he  is  now  in  case 
to  clean  up,  and  who  has  begun  by  housing  himself, 


68  LETTERS    HOME, 

on  the  East  side,  rather  too  magnificently,  I  found 
some  Perennial  men,  the  other  day ;  and  there  was  an 
author  or  two,  as  authors  go  in  New  York,  and  some 
painters  who,  as  things  go  anywhere,  are  always  more 
interesting  than  authors.  We  were  not  without  actors, 
for  it  was  not  a  matinee  afternoon,  and  I  saw  in  the 
flesh  the  prevailing  actress,  though  in  rather  less  of 
it  than  I  had  seen  her  on  the  stage.  It  was  pleasant, 
or  at  least  piquant;  if  I  were  to  distinguish  so  closely 
I  should  say  that  New  York  always  piques  rather  than 
pleases,  and  Boston — well  Boston  at  least  does  not 
pique ;  and  it  was  the  more  amusing  because  it  was  of 
that  provisional  character  in  which  what  one  may 
roughly  call  celebrity  rather  than  society  played  the 
chief  part.  The  Van  der  Doeses  felt  obliged  to  ac 
count  for  their  presence  to  some  of  their  friends 
whom  they  met,  and  their  friends  were  likewise 
exculpatory ;  you  know  what  I  mean.  The  celebrity 
was  nothing  to  them,  or  rather  worse ;  I  do  not  care 
for  it  much  myself,  because  it  is  tiresome ;  it  does 
not  know  what  to  do  with  itself ;  and  you  do  not 
know  what  to  do  with  it ;  but  there  were  people  there 
who  were  all  eyes  and  ears  for  it.  There  was  a  pretty 
boy  (the  boys  are  so  pretty  now,  with  their  shaven 
faces,  which  make  us  eighteen-sixty  fellows  look  so 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MKS.   WALTEK  BINNING.    69 

barbaric  with  our  beards,  even  when  they  go  no 
farther  than  an  "  educated  whisker  "  or  two)  who  told 
me  afterwards  that  he  was  from  Iowa,  of  all  places, 
and  teased  me  with  the  sense  of  having  seen  him 
before,  somewhere.  I  can't  make  out  yet  where  it 
was,  if  it  was  really  anywhere,  but  probably  it  was 
nowhere.  He  interested  me  past  the  vain  quest  by 
asking  me  when  the  prevalent  actress  had  turned 
from  me,  whether  it  were  she,  and  then  rushed  off  to 
a  large,  flowery  young  woman — sun-flowery  is  not 
too  much — and  seemed  to  excite  her  with  the  fact  as 
much  as  himself.  Their  emotion  was  so  interesting 
that  I  did  a  thing  I  should  not  have  done  when  I  was 
under  fifty.  I  followed  him  up  and  asked  him  if  he 
would  like  to  be  presented,  and  the  young  woman  to 
whom  his  eager  eyes  referred  me,  said,  "  She  would 
give  the  world  to,"  and  I  led  them  up,  and  sacrificed 
them  on  the  shrine  of  the  amiable  deity,  who  had  in 
stantly  forgotten  me,  but  received  us  as  if  we  were 
her  oldest  friends.  After  her  dispersing  welcome,  we 
rather  had  ourselves  on  each  others'  hands,  and  fol 
lowing  an  interval  in  which  we  treated  one  another  as 
veteran  New  Yorkers,  we  arrived  at  a  sense  of  our 
common  strangeness,  and  exchanged  our  geographical 
derivations.  As  the  young  woman  said  she  had 


70  LETTERS    HOME. 

always  wanted  to  see  Boston,  I  could  not  do  less  than 
own  that  the  disappointment  of  my  life  was  never 
having  seen  Iowa.  By  and  by,  she  asked  the  young 
man,  who  had  naturally  dropped  out  of  the  conversa 
tion,  if  he  would  not  go  and  hunt  up  her  father,  and 
he  presently  came  back  with  an  old  fellow  so  exactly 
of  my  years  and  of  her  looks  that  I  had  a  difficulty  in 
disentangling  my  consciousness  from  a  tie  of  kindred. 
But  my  contemporary  viewed  me  with  an  instant  of 
suspicion  which  I  had  not  experienced  from  his  pos 
terity.  He  asked,  pretty  stiffly,  if  she  wanted  to  go, 
and  she  took  a  fonder  leave  of  me  than  he.  The 
Van  der  Doeses  turned  up  in  time  to  break  my  fall, 
and  they  had  not  quite  finished  asking  me  how  in  the 
world  I  had  got  hold  of  the  Cheese  and  Churn  Trust, 
when  the  father  returned,  with  the  air  of  having  had 
it  taken  out  of  him  by  the  sunflowery  young  woman, 
and  said  his  daughter  had  been  telling  him  how  very 
kind  I  had  been,  and  he  wanted  to  thank  me.  He 
gave  me  his  card,  and  when  he  went  the  Van  der 
Doeses  explained  that  this  was  the  magnate  whose 
financiering  skill  is  going  to  embitter  our  bread  to  all 
of  us  who  like  butter  and  cheese  with  it,  and  sketched 
his  social  career  in  New  York.  It  could  be  done 
briefly,  because  it  had  gone  no  farther  than  buying  a 


MR.   OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.    WALTER  BINNING.   71 

lot  worth  its  width  in  gold,  to  build  on,  and  coasting 
along  the  shores  of  society.  They  added  harrowing 
stories  of  Western  millionaires  who  had  failed  to  get 
in,  and  had  gone  to  Europe  to  hide  their  sorrows 
in  the  bosom  of  the  aristocracies  there ;  but  these 
Ralsons  were  inexhaustibly  good  natured,  and  the 
daughter  seemed  to  know  how  to  place  the  father's 
money  where  it  would  do  the  most  good.  She  had 
an  instinct  or  an  inspiration  concerning  the  right  sort 
of  charities,  and  if  she  could  find  a  foothold  in 
Newport,  the  thing  was  done.  They  were  very  good- 
natured  about  it ;  New  York  is  good-natured  about 
everything ;  and  they  were  not  sorry  not  to  despair  of 
the  Ralsons.  They  did  not  know  who  the  pretty  boy 
was ;  perhaps  a  reminiscence  of  pre-existence  in  Iowa 
(the  terms  are  mine ;)  or  a  relation  whom  Papa  Ralson 
was  bringing  up  to  inherit  him  in  the  Trust. 

I  may  get  very  tired  of  all  this.  I  may  go  to 
Europe  or  I  may  go  to  Boston,  but  if  I  stay,  I  shall 
certainly  try  to  see  the  Ralsons  again. 

The  excuse  of  this  inordinate  letter  is  that  I  have 
not  written  for  so  long  before ;  but  I  will  not  be  so 
long  again.  (I  seem  to  be  making  a  play  upon 
words.)  At  any  rate  it  will  last  you  a  day,  if  it  is  a 
day  when  you  cannot  go  out  in  your  chair.  You  see 


72  LETTERS    HOME. 

I  keep  up  with  your  convalescence ;  for  Wally  told 
me  something  about  you,  and  made  it  easier  for  me 
to  break  my  promise  about  writing  you  every  week. 
But  I  won't  do  it  again — I  mean,  break  my  promise. 
Yours  affectionately, 

OTIS. 


XII. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,   Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  January  17,  1902. 
Dear  Line  : 

I  have  not  written  for  nearly  a  week,  not  because 
there  was  nothing  to  write,  but  because  there  was 
and  always  is  only  too  much.  I  am  one  and  New 
York  is  three  or  four  millions,  and  she  can  beat  me 
when  it  comes  to  a  grapple.  I  want  to  tell  you  all 
about  her,  and  how  she  gets  me  down  and  rolls  me 
over,  every  time  I  go  out  of  doors,  but  it  is  no  use 
trying ;  her  tricks  are  too  many ;  she  is  Hildegunde, 
and  I  happen  not  to  be  Siegfried ;  or  not  so  much 
Siegfried  as  I  supposed  when  I  first  came  here.  If  I 
were  wrestling  for  some  other  fellow,  I  might  do  bet 
ter,  but  I  am  in  love  with  her  myself,  and  more  and 
more  in  love  every  day. 

I  am  now  seeing  my  beloved  from  the  social  whirl, 
so  far  as  the  Kalsons  can  drag  me  into  the  vortex. 
73 


74  LETTERS    HOME. 

Their  hospitality  continues  beyond  anything  that 
merit,  however  modest,  could  have  expected.  It  is  so 
constant  that  I  find  myself  getting  critical  of  the 
cuisine  at  the  Walhondia.  In  fact,  Lamarque's  fifty 
cent  table  d'  hote  is  better,  in  certain  touches  beyond 
the  reach  of  art,  in  certain  inspirations.  Besides,  at 
Lamarque's  the  company  is  always  more  cultivated 
than  it  is  at  the  Walhondia,  and  on  very  exceptional 
Fridays  I  have  got  bouillabaisse  at  Lamarque's :  the 
6ame  bouillabaisse  that  Thackeray  made  his  ballad 
about ;  at  the  Walhondia  they  never  give  you  bouilla 
baisse,  and  I  doubt  if  many  of  the  guests  ever  heard 
of  Thackeray.  But  there  are  worse  things  than 
ignorance  of  literature,  and  better  things  than  bouilla 
baisse  and  I  manage  to  have  a  good  time  with  the 
liaisons  at  the  hotel.  I  even  think  that  I  help  them 
to  have  a  good  time,  and  I  don't  find  myself  sorry  or 
ashamed  for  it.  You  have  to  respect  a  man  who  has 
got  to  the  top,  and  planted  himself  so  squarely  there 
as  Kalson  has,  and  America  is  the  best  fellow  in  the 
world.  I  take  that  back,  if  there  is  the  shadow  of 
slight  in  it :  she  is  a  good,  whole-souled  girl,  and  I 
hope  she  may  get  into  all  the  society  she  wants. 

In  the  meantime  she  isn't  worrying  about  whether 
she  has  reached  the  real  thing  or  not.    The  other  day 


WALLACE    ARDITH   TO   A.    L.    WIBBERT.  75 

they  took  me  to  an  afternoon  reception — or  rather 
she  did ;  her  father  came  in  later — at  the  editor  of 
The  Signal's  ;  a  kind  of  housewarming  that  he  was 
giving  himself  in  the  palace  he's  just  built,  and  I  met 
more  than  four  hundred  delightful  people,  whether 
they  were  the  four  hundred  that  America  is  after  or 
not.  The  most  delightful  of  all  turned  out  to  be  the 
charming  old  fellow  whom  I  talked  with  in  the  Park 
the  day  I  saw  those  unmanageable  lovers  of  mine. 
The  light  of  recognition  faded  into  perplexity  from 
the  first  glance  he  gave  me,  and  I  thought  I  would 
not  press  upon  him  the  acquaintance  which  had  evi 
dently  passed  from  his  lax,  senile  hold;  he  proved 
even  more  satisfactory  as  a  nice  old  Bostonian  in 
whom  I  could  not  feel  any  menace  of  rival  author 
ship.  He  was  as  old-school  in  his  afternoon  dress, 
as  he  was  that  day  in  the  Park :  very  correct,  with 
not  just  a  New  York  correctness;  but  something 
more,  and  something  less ;  it  was  as  if  his  correctness 
were  qualified  by  his  intellectuality,  which  may  make 
the  Boston  difference. 

He  wanted  to  talk,  or  to  make  me  talk,  of  New 
York,  and  was  gayly  amused  at  my  enthusiasm ;  lie 
confessed  he  did  not  share  it,  but  professed  to  be 
able  to  understand  it,  though  I  doubt  if  he  did.  I 


76  LETTERS    HOME. 

doubt  if  he  quite  grasped  me  as  a  product  of  the  roll 
ing  prairie,  but  he  did  his  best,  and  America  seemed 
almost  to  take  his  mind  off  New  York  for  a  moment. 
Miss  Everwort,  the  English  actress  was  there,  and  he 
introduced  us.  When  she  got  through  with  us. 
which  she  did  in  about  half  a  second,  as  if  we  were 
so  many  seats  in  a  house,  not  to  be  discriminated,  he 
stayed  chatting  with  Make  and  me,  till  some  friends 
of  his  came  up ;  Make  told  me  afterwards  they  were 
the  Van  der  Doeses,  which  means  something  supernal 
here.  Miss  Hally,  the  chief  intervieweress  of  The 
Signal  bowed  to  us  from  a  distance,  and  he  asked 
very  eagerly  who  she  was.  Perhaps  you  will  like  to 
know,  too,  and  I  can  tell  you  what  I  could  not  tell 
him,  that  she  was  much  a  type  as  he  was.  She  is  of 
a  high  old  Southern  family  whose  passive  Unionism 
did  not  keep  their  fortunes  from  going  down  with  the 
confederates'  in  the  Civil  War,  and  after  struggling 
along  at  home,  putting  up  lady-like  pickles  and  pre 
serves  for  a  reluctant  market,  she  came  North  and 
went  into  journalism.  When  Gasman  took  over  The 
Signal,  and  began  to  clean  it  up,  he  asked  her  to 
join  the  staff,  and  that  is  why  she  was  at  his  house 
the  other  day.  She  goes  everywhere  in  the  way  of 
business,  and  is  welcome  to  everybody  either  seeking 


WALLACE    AKDITH    TO    A.     L.    WIBBERT.          77 

or  shunning  publicity  ;  for  she  is  an  artist  and  knows 
when  to  stop,  or  when  not  to  begin.  The  Ralsons 
know  her  from  her  coming  to  make  a  story  about  Mr. 
R.,  shortly  after  their  advent  here,  and  they  all  like 
her,  and  help  her  in  the  little  good  turns  her  left 
hand  does  while  her  right  is  taking  notes  for  Sunday 
stories.  She  got  that  combination  secretary  and  com 
panion  for  America  and  Mrs.  Ralson,  who  has  cast 
already  the  spell  of  her  personality  over  the  old  lady, 
and  the  spell  of  her  dictionary  over  the  young  one, 
and  though  she  doesn't  like  me,  promises,  I  am 
bound  to  say,  to  be  a  great  boon  to  both  of  them.  I 
mustn't  let  you  get  the  notion  that  I  am  always  on 
the  society  heights  where  you  are  now  beholding  me. 
If  I  spend  my  days  there  from  one  p.  m.  to  twelve 
a.  m.  with  the  Ralsons,  I  dwell  with  the  Baysley's 
from  one  a.  m.  till  twelve  m.,  in  the  valley  of  humil 
iation,  and  mostly  curse  the  hour  when  I  was  fool 
enough  to  come  here.  They  were  poor  enough  be 
fore,  but  just  now  Baysley  has  the  grippe  and  they 
all  have  their  hearts  in  their  mouths  for  fear  he  may 
lose  his  job  if  he  is  kept  away  from  the  office  long. 
The  old  woman  and  the  oldest  girl  are  nursing  him, 
and  the  youngest  is  looking  after  me.  I  found  her 
waiting  to  let  me  in  to-night,  (or  call  it  this  morning,) 


78  LETTERS    HOME. 

for  my  door  key  hasn't  materialized  yet ;  and  when  I 
said  something  decent  about  her  father's  sickness  she 
broke  down  and  cried  with  her  head  on  the  table,  so 
that  I  wanted  to  put  my  arms  round  her  and  comfort 
her.  But  I  didn't.  She  is  pretty  in  a  pale  blonde 
way,  and  you  must  not  put  your  arms  round  a  girl  to 
comfort  her  when  she  is  pretty,  and  giveth  her  color 
in  a  pale,  blonde  way.  I  suppose  she  cried  a  little 
more  confidentially  with  me  because  I  got  up  and 
kindled  the  fire  in  the  range  for  her  this  morning — or 
yesterday  morning,  it  is  now.  She  has  been  making 
my  coffee,  and  broiling  my  bacon,  since  her  sister 
detailed  herself  to  help  her  mother  look  after  the  old 
man ;  and  though  she  doesn't  do  them  so  well  as  to 
make  me  anxious  for  either,  I  did  kindle  the  fire  for 
her,  when  I  found  she  wasn't  awake  at  nine  o'clock. 
You  will  say  that  was  self-interest,  but  then  you 
know  I  might  have  gone  out  and  got  a  breakfast 
without  smutting  my  hands.  Which  would  you  have 
done  ?  I  know  you  will  say  you  would  have  made 
the  fire,  and  I  hope  you  would.  It  was  rather  amus 
ing,  and  rather  a  touching  experience,  for  it  made  me 
think  how  I  used  to  kindle  the  fire  for  my  mother  at 
Timber  Creek,  before  I  went  on  to  be  a  distinguished 
journalist  in  Wottoma.  The  poor,  sleepy  thing  came 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO    A.    L.    WIBBERT.  79 

in  after  I  had  got  the  range  red-hot,  and  wailed  out 
"  Oh  what  did  you  do  it  for  ? "  in  a  way  that  made 
the  lump  come  in  my  throat.  I  am  telling  you  of 
these  squalid  matters  a  1:30  a.  m.,  with  my  dress 
coat  still  on,  after  getting  home  from  the  opera  with 
the  Ralsons,  and  gayly  parting  with  Make  and  her 
father  in  their  automobile  at  the  door,  which  this 
wretched  little  Essie  Baysley  let  me  in  at.  Life  is 
strange,  my  dear  Line,  but  as  full  of  material  as  an 
egg  is  of  meat. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  ARDITH. 


XIII. 

From   Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.     DENNAM, 
Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  17,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

I  have  been  waiting  till  I  could  get  warm  in  my 
place  before  writing  again,  and  now  I  am  not  only 
warm,  but  I  seem  to  be  the  centre  of  a  life-giving 
heat  for  the  whole  Ralson  family.  This  has  its 
drawbacks.  You  may  think  it  is  easy  to  sit  reading 
to  Mrs.  Ealson  and  cheering  her  up,  and  at  the  same 
time  go  out  with  Miss  Ralson  in  her  automobile  to 
those  semi-public  functions  where  she  needs  a  chap 
eron,  and  I  do  not  need  an  invitation,  only  a  ticket ; 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  test,  it  is  different.  As  for 
Mr*  Ralson,  I  all  but  sew  on  his  buttons :  Miss  Ralson 
seemed  disposed,  one  while,  to  draw  the  line  at 
mending  his  gloves,  but  she  has  since  withdrawn  it. 

They  are  all  as  good  to  me  as  they  can  be,  and  if 
80 


MISS  FRANCES    DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       81 

I  could  ever  love  the  daughter  of  a  Trust,  I  should 
love  Miss  Ralson.  I  have  gone  back  so  far  on  my 
principles  as  to  love  the  wife  of  a  Trust,  and  she 
seems  to  reciprocate  my  passion.  I  have  had  to  hear 
so  much  talk  about  the  "  beautiful  home "  in 
Wottoma,  from  her,  that  I  begin  to  feel  as  if  I  had 
come  from  it,  and  I  have  made  a  picture  of  it  from 
memory  on  the  next  leaf.  You  cannot  see  the 
Mississippi  from  Mrs.  Ralson's  window,  because  it  is 
not  in  the  picture,  but  you  could  if  you  were  in  the 
room  there,  for  the  "  home  "  stands  on  the  bluff  over 
looking  the  river. 

I  am  not  the  only  pebble  on  the  beach  with  the 
Ralsons,  as  Miss  Ralson  would  say,  or  the  only  sun 
in  the  universe,  as  /  should  say.  There  is  a  young 
Wottoma  man  who  comes  to  see  them  and  seems  to 
be  a  general  favorite.  Miss  Ralson  says  he  is  "  liter 
ary,'1  and  has  been  disappointed,  not  in  literature, 
but  in  love ;  and  she  is  doing  what  she  can  to 
comfort  him,  by  taking  him  out  to  teas,  and  matinees 
and  operas,  and  giving  him  lunches  and  dinners  here 
between  times.  The  old  folks  are  comforting  him,  too. 
Mrs.  Ralson  almost  thinks  he  helped  build  the  "  beau 
tiful  home, "  and  he  spells  me  with  her  when  Miss 
America  takes  me  out  and  talks  to  me  about  him.  I 


82  LETTERS    HOME. 

don't  know  whether  I  quite  like  his  taking  to  comfort 
so  kindly.  He  is  very  handsome  and  very  pretty- 
behaved,  but  I  thing  a  literary  man  ought  to  lit, 
sometimes,  and  I  don't  see  when  Mr.  Ardith  does,  un 
less  it's  when  he  gets  home  from  the  opera,  and  ought 
to  be  in  bed.  He  may  burn  the  one  o'clock  oil,  then, 
but  he  comes  to  lunch  as  blooming  the  next  day  as  if 
he  had  not  been  sicklied  over  the  least  bit.  I  wouldn't 
say  it  to  everybody,  but  you're  a  mother,  or  a  sister  if 
I  include  Lizzie,  and  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Ardith  is  some 
thing  of  a  social  self-seeker,  and  has  too  good  an  ap 
petite  for  the  loaves  and  fishes.  I  don't  really  know 
anything  against  him,  and  he's  always  nice  to  rne,  and 
I'm  quite  ashamed,  but  that's  the  way  I  feel  about 
him.  If  you  feel  differently,  don't  mind  me  ! 

The  other  day  Miss  Ralson  came  home  from  a  tea 
with  him,  where  they  had  met  an  old  gentleman  from 
Boston  who  seemed  to  take  both  their  fancies.  It 
seems  that  Mr.  Ralson  had  been  rather  rough  with 
the  old  Bostonian,  and  Miss  Ralson  made  him  go 
back  and  try  to  make  it  right,  and  Mr.  Ralson  asked 
him  to  call,  and  got  a  good  going-over  from  his 
daughter  for  doing  it,  which  he  took  as  meekly  as  if 
he  hadn't  a  cent  in  the  world.  But  it  was  not  such 
a  mistake  after  all,  and  yesterday  afternoon  Mr. 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       83 

Binning's  card  came  up,  and  lie  after  it.  Nobody  was 
at  home  but  Miss  Ralson  and  Mr.  Ardith,  and  she 
sent  him  in  to  stay  with  her  mother,  and  brought  me 
out.  She  told  him  she  was  not  going  to  have  him 
hanging  round,  unless  she  could  say  he  was  a  cousin, 
and  she  couldn't  conscientiously  say  any  such  thing; 
and  she  wanted  me  because  I  looked  more  proper, 
anyway.  This  Mr.  Binning  didn't  seem  to  think  I  did, 
but  I  could  see  that  he  didn't  know  what  to  make  of 
me,  anyway,  when  she  introduced  him. 

Mother,  you're  such  a  purely  country  person  that 
you  won't  understand,  but  my  presence  said  in  much 
better  English  than  I  ever  use,  "Companion,  or  Secre 
tary,  or  possibly  Typewriter,  or  Provincial  Friend,  or 
Poor  Relation,  at  the  best;"  and  Mr.  Binning  was  all 
the  while  trying  to  fit  his  behavior  to  one  or  the 
other  or  all  of  the  possibilities.  Every  now  and  then 
he  would  say  something  to  me  so  respectful  that  I 
could  feel  the  consideration,  and  almost  the  compas 
sion,  sticking  through,  and  before  I  could  get  off  a 
half-frozen  answer,  he  was  switched  onto  the  main 
line  after  Miss  Ralson.  He  had  really  come  to  see 
her,  anyway,  and  I  could  see  that  he  was  perfectly 
struck  up  with  her  gorgeousness.  She  is  gorgeous, 
and  makes  anybody  else  in  the  room  look  like  thirty 


84  LETTERS    HOME. 

cents,  as  she  would  say ;  all  the  slang  you  find  in  my 
letters  is  from  her.  He  was  very  cultivated  and 
talked  with  her  about  Europe,  and  I  don't  know  what 
else,  but  especially  pictures,  I  remember.  I  believe 
he  led  up  to  pictures,  and  got  her  to  talking  of  the 
Titians,  so  that  he  could  say  he  must  have  felt  her 
self  quite  at  home  among  them.  Now,  mother,  this 
was  where  I  fell  down,  (Miss  Ralson's  expression)  for 
I  had  to  look  in  a  cyclopedia  at  the  Lenox  Library  to 
find  out  that  Titian  was  a  painter  who  mostly  painted 
golden  red  blondes,  and  I  didn't  know  till  then  what 
Mr.  Binning  was  driving  at.  But  it  was  pretty  when 
you  got  it,  and  Miss  Ralson  said  it  was  one  of  the 
nicest  compliments  she  ever  had,  when  I  explained  it 
fully  to  her  this  morning.  In  fact  he  was  as  nice  as 
he  could  be.  He  is  very  fine-looking,  in  an  old  family 
portrait  way  ;  we  have  been  trying  ever  since  to  make 
out  how  old  a  family  portrait  he  is.  He  is  either 
preternaturally  young  or  prematurely  gray,  and  he  is 
either  exquisitely  refined  or  inexpressibly  rude.  He 
brought  the  cards  of  some  ladies  of  the  name  of  Van 
der  Does,  which  he  framed  in  the  most  beautiful 
apologies  for  their  not  calling  with  him,  and  begged 
Miss  Ralson's  acceptance  of  an  invitation  to  a  tea 
where  there  is  to  be  a  monologue  by  a  famous  mono- 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       85 

loguist.  I  shall  never  know  exactly  whether  he  made 
the  invitation  include  me  or  not,  but  if  it  did  it  was 
so  delicately  done  that  I  might  have  supposed  that 
it  didn't. 

It  came  quite  at  the  end,  and  when  he  had  gone 
Miss  Ralson  stood  with  the  cards  in  her  fingers, 
twisting  them  as  if  she  were  going  to  tear  them  in 
two,  and  getting  redder  and  redder,  till  she  was  all 
over  the  color  of  her  hair,  and  her  blue  eyes  were  like 
blue  fire-works.  Then  she  stopped,  and  opened  her 
mother's  door,  and  called  in,  "Come  out  here,  Mr. 
Ardith,"  and  when  he  came  out  she  put  the  whole 
case  to  him.  He  didn't  hesitate  a  moment.  "Why, 
go,  of  course,"  he  said.  "It's  a  semi-public  thing, 
and  you  needn't  more  than  speak  to  your  hostesses." 
She  ran  toward  him  with  her  arms  open  as  if  she 
were  going  to  hug  him,  and  shouted  out,  "You  good 
little  worldly  angel !  You've  been  six  weeks  in  New 
York  and  you  know  more  about  it  already  than  I  do 
after  a  year.  But,"  and  this  was  where  she  seemed 
more  disappointed  than  she  had  been  offended  be 
fore,  "I  almost  wish  it  had  been  purely  social." 

Mother,  even  the  rich  have  to  eat  humble  pie  in 
New  York,  I  can  tell  you.  I  can  see  that  Miss 
Ralson  is  going  to  this  function,  as  they  call  it,  and 


86  LETTERS    HOME. 

I  can  see  that  this  horrid  Mr.  Ardith  wanted  her  to 
go  because  he  saw  that  she  wanted  to  go,  and  be 
cause  he  thinks  he  can  get  in  with  the  Four  Hundred 
himself.  It  fairly  makes  me  despise  him.  She  was 
ready  to  tear  up  the  cards,  if  he  said  so,  and  fling 
them  in  the  fire,  and  he  ought  to  have  been  man 
enough  to  encourage  her.  She  is  a  climber ;  they 
came  here  to  get  up ;  but  such  a  fellow  as  this  Mr. 
Ardith  is  a  creeper  and  a  crawler.  Ugh ! 
Your  affectionate  daughter, 

FRANCES 


XIV. 

From  MR.  OTIS  BINNING  to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 

Boston. 

NEW   YORK,  January  19,  1902. 
My  Dear  Sister: 

I  am  only  too  glad  to  respond  to  your  curiosity 
as  I  find  it  framed  in  the  fine  doubts,  the  delicate 
sniffs,  of  your  yesterday's  letter.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  can  add  new  expression  to  the  physiognimies 
of  my  fellow  sojourners  here,  but  perhaps  I  can  treat 
the  background  so  as  to  throw  them  into  more  sig 
nificant  relief. 

You  ask -me  whether  these  Ralson's  of  mine  (you 
are  so  good  to  give  them  me)  are  like  certain  types 
of  the  new  rich  who  used  to  come  on  from  the  West 
to  Boston  in  rather  greater  force  than  they  do 
now,  to  see  their  sons  through  Harvard ;  and  I  must 
indefinitively  answer,  Not  quite.  They  are  Western 
and  they  are  rich,  but  the  sort  of  people  you  instance 
87 


88  LETTERS    HOME. 

appeared  among  us  on  a  semblance  of  the  old  duteous 
terms,  which  people  like  the  Ralsons  frankly  ignore. 
They  came  among  us  because  they  believed,  or  made 
believe,  that  their  sons  could  get  through  Harvard 
better  with  them  than  without  them ;  and  the  fact 
that  their  presence  proved  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  end  in  view,  did  not  affect  the  moral  elevation  of 
their  pretence.  But  people  like  the  Ralsons  come  to 
New  York  simply  because  they  have  got  too  rich  to 
stay  at  home,  and  because  they  think  they  can  spend 
their  money  more  agreeably  here  than  where  they 
made  it.  They  come  in  numbers  and  variety  un 
known  to  our  pastoral  aforetimes,  and  without  any 
stay  in  the  St.  Louises,  the  Chicagos,  the  Cincin- 
natis,  the  Pittsburgs,  of  their  native  regions.  It  is 
said  that  these  provincial  centres,  which  you  might 
think  would  attract  them  for  a  winter  or  two,  have 
not  the  social  force,  or  the  glamour  of  the  unknown, 
or  the  charm  of  an  incomparable  grandeur.  Boston 
itself  has  not  this  last,  and  they  can  come  only  to 
New  York  in  the  hope  of  getting  their  money's  worth 
of  whatever  they  dream  of  buying  here. 

In  a  way  their  dream  is  sordid,  but  they  are  not 
always  so  sordid  as  their  dream,  and  there  is  often  an 
ingenuousness  in  their  hope  that  touches.  Some  of 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.    89 

them  come  without  knowing  a  soul  in  the  city,  but 
trusting  to  the  fortuities  to  bring  them  acquaintance ; 
and  they  wait  upon  these  with  the  patience  of 
martyrs  and  heroes,  or,  rather,  heroines:  for  it  is 
not  the  men  of  their  kind  who  have  usually  decided 
the  family  move  on  New  York.  The  men  might  be 
satisfied  to  remain  at  home  iu  the  castles  or  palaces 
which  they  seem  always  to  build  in  their  first  opu 
lence,  to  over-awe  the  imaginations  of  their  fellow- 
townsmen  ;  but  for  their  womenkind  to  be  in,  if  they 
cannot  be  of,  the  metropolis,  they  leave  their  local 
supremacy  behind,  their  great  mansions,  galleries, 
greenhouses,  libraries  of  first  editions,  their  whole 
undisputed  state  among  people  who  envy  if  they  do 
not  revere  them,  and  come  here,  and  accept  seats  far 
below  the  salt  at  the  second  table  or  the  third.  They 
may  not  always  know  that  they  are  not  sitting  in  the 
best  places,  for  there  is  a  great  deal  of  what  is  ap 
parently  society  in  New  York,  which  is  not  the  real 
thing,  but  which  satisfies  an  ignorant  aspiration  as 
fully  as  if  it  were.  The  Walhondia  for  instance, 
looks  like  society;  the  fathers  and  husbands  do  not 
know  the  difference,  and  if  the  wives  and  daughters 
find  it  out,  they  say  nothing  about  it  beyond  theif 
family  circles.  At  times,  in  fact,  no  one  seems  more 


90  LETTERS  HOME. 

on  the  outside  of  society  here  than  another;  that  is, 
society  itself  seems  to  have  no  inside.  If  these  new 
comers  do  not  find  themselves  in  it,  they  may  think 
that  it  is  merely  a  mistake  in  regard  to  themselves ; 
that  they  have  been  not  counted  in  through  accident. 
Coming  here  with  their  ten  or  twenty  millions,  they 
cannot  disabuse  themselves  of  the  infatuation  in 
which  they  have  lived  at  home  that  they  are  persons 
of  social  consequence :  they  cannot  imagine  that  there 
are  native  New  Yorkers  as  rich  as  they,  who  are 
anxious  to  keep  their  riches  unknown,  and  would  not 
think  it  nice  to  be  accepted  on  account  of  them ;  to 
whom  the  existence  of  the  vulgar  Four  Hundred  is  a 
matter  of  supreme  indifference ;  who  figure  in  the 
society  intelligence  as  little  as  possible. 

But  the  new-comers  are  not  all,  or  not  altogether 
bad.  My  Ralsons  are  so  far  from  altogether  bad  that 
they  have  a  certain  wilding  charm,  and  if  they  can 
continue  sylvanly  themselves,  they  will  be  the  fine 
fleur  of  the  patriciate  in  a  few  generations.  Their 
manner  does  not  betray  the  delusion  of  so  many  par- 
venues  that  aristocrats  are  refined  people,  instead  of 
being  people  who  on  coming  into  their  social  advant 
ages  have  known  how  to  keep  the  rude  force  of  their 
disadvantages;  whose  cooks,  coachmen  and  lackeys 


MR.   OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING,   9  L 

have,  generally  speaking,  always  had  better  manners, 
because  they  have  been  obliged  to  have  them.  My 
Ralson,  for  instance,  is  no  better  behaved  now  than 
he  was  when  he  was  beginning  to  make  his  millions ; 
he  is  probably  not  so  well  behaved,  for  then  he  was 
trying  by  every  art,  even  by  his  notion  of  politeness, 
to  get  on ;  but  now  his  native  rudeness  has  already  a 
kind  of  authority,  and  in  his  presence  I  am  amused 
by  a  forecast  of  distinction  in  him  which  society  will 
recognize  later.  In  the  meantime  he  is  himself,  for 
good  or  bad ;  he  is  not  afraid  to  be  anything  that  he 
really  is.  If  he  is  repulsive  in  his  savage  sincerity, 
he  is  no  more  to  blame  than  his  daughter,  who  is 
alluring  in  her  savage  sincerity,  and  is  so  much  like 
him  in  nature  that  I  am  always  wondering  she  is  not 
like  him  in  character.  They  are  both  prodigiously 
simple,  and  their  common  satisfaction  in  that  pretty 
literary  youth  of  mine  who  is  always  with  them, 
greatly  commends  itself  to  my  fancy.  With  whatever 
dreams  of  ihejeunesse  doree  the  daughter  may  have 
come  to  New  York  it  would  seem  as  if  she  had 
wakened  from  them  to  a  delight  in  him  which  her 
father  shares,  because  he  is  used  to  deferring  to  her 
in  matters  of  taste,  and  perhaps  because  he  secretly 
thinks  that  literature  is  something  the  pretty  youth 


92  LETTERS    HOME. 

will  outlive,  when  he  can  be  eventually  worked  into 
the  business;  for  my  Ralson  is  business,  "first,  last, 
and  all  the  time,"  as  he  would  say,  and  never  so 
much  business  as  in  his  abeyance  to  his  daughter. 

What  the  pretty  youth  thinks  of  them  in  his  heart, 
or  in  that  place  where  the  literary  soul  has  its  being 
in  the  literary  man's  frequent  defect  of  heart,  I  do 
not  know.  He  may  not  feel  their  difference  from 
himself,  so  much  as  I  see  it,  or  he  may  perceive  it  as 
material  for  future  literature.  No  doubt  he  is  as 
business  in  his  way  as  Ralson  in  his  other  way.  At 
any  rate  he  has  come  to  New  York  in  obedience  to 
the  same  law  of  metropolitan  attraction  that  has 
drawn  the  chief  of  the  Cheese  and  Churn  Trust. 
This  law,  if  it  was  once  operative  in  Boston  is  no 
longer  so.  I  think  we  were  once  a  capital,  the  capital 
of  New  England,  but  since  New  England  has  become 
more  and  more  lost  in  the  United  States,  we  have 
ceased  to  be  a  capital.  We  may  still  be  Athens,  but 
we  are  not  the  Athens  of  Socrates,  of  Pericles ;  if 
Athens  at  all,  we  are  the  Athens  of  the  middle  or 
later  Empire,  whither  the  young  men  of  generous 
ambitions  resort  for  culture,  but  not  for  the  fulfill 
ment  of  their  dreams  of  a  literary  career.  We  are 
no  longer  the  literary,  as  we  are  no  longer  the  com- 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING.  93 

mercial  or  the  social  metropolis,  and  the  young 
Ardiths  of  the  land  (the  youth's  name  is  Ardith) 
would  no  more  think  of  coming  up  to  us  than  the 
old  Ralsons. 

I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  given  you  the  notion  of 
these  people  which  lay  so  clear  in  my  own  mind;  I 
am  afraid  that  I  have  confused  it  even  there  a  little ; 
and  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  be  more  convincing 
about  their  relation  to  each  other,  than  about  their 
several  psychologies.  But  I  think  there  can  be  no 
cloud  in  Miss  Ralson's  mind,  whatever  vagueness 
there  may  be  in  the  pretty  boy's;  and  when  she 
makes  it  plain  that  she  wants  him,  neither  he  nor  her 
father  will  keep  her  from  having  him.  It  may  seem 
to  you  a  very  insufficient  outcome  of  her  social 
aspirations — her  father  really  has  none,  being  purely 
commercial,  though  I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  out 
side  of  his  business  he  is  immoral — and  yet  I  cannot 
help  thinking  it  would  be  very  well.  I  wish  I  could 
make  you  see  it  as  I  do,  for  I  should  like  you  to  en 
joy  with  me  a  genuine  New  York  idyl  like  this.  As 
a  mere  witness  of  the  affair,  I  have  all  sorts  of  tender 
perturbations,  hopes,  misgivings,  desires,  and  at  times, 
a  rich  potentiality  of  unhappiness  in  it.  I  am  not 
sure  that  the  youth  is  so  consciously  in  love  as 


94  LETTERS   HOME. 

the  maiden,  but  I  have  been  given  to  understand 
that  in  things  of  this  kind  both  sides  cannot  be 
active,  and  I  do  not  know  why  the  youth  should  not 
be  passive,  sometimes,  instead  of  the  maiden.  It 
adds  a  pleasing  poignancy  to  the  situation,  and  though 
the  material  is  not  that  which  I  should  once  have 
fancied  interesting  me,  I  am  now  aware  of  a  certain 
charm  in  it  which  I  wish  I  could  impart.  But  you, 
Margaret,  are  still  in  and  of  Boston,  and  I  am  in  New 
York,  liberated  to  the  enjoyment  of  social  spectacles 
which  you  could  only  view  with  abhorrence.  If  you 
tell  me  you  cannot  taste  my  pleasure  in  the  loves  of 
a  young  Western  journalist  and  the  daughter  of  one 
of  the  most  offensive,  and  perhaps  mischievous  of 
the  modern  trusts,  I  shall  not  be  hurt,  but  I  shall  not 
press  my  pleasure  upon  you.  In  fact,  I  am  not  sure 
that  at  my  age  I  can  altogether  justify  it  to  myself. 
We  will  suppose  it  is  a  book  about  some  very 
commonplace  people  which  I  had  liked  for  not  very 
definable  reasons,  but  which  I  will  not  insist  upon 
lending  you  unless  you  urge  me. 

OTIS. 


XV. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  17,   1902. 
My  dear  Line  : 

My  letter  of  the  14th,  which  has  crossed  yours, 
must  have  given  you  much  of  the  polite  information 
you  seek;  but  I  will  try  to  be  a  little  more  specific. 
The  great  difference  between  New  York  and  Wot 
toma,  is  quantitative.  Most  Americans  are  like  most 
other  Americans,  whether  they  have  been  here  two 
hundred  years  or  twenty,  and  the  New  Yorkers  have 
the  advantage  of  the  rest  principally  in  being  here  to 
the  number  of  two  or  three  millions  instead  of  ten 
or  twelve  thousand.  Take  Wottoma,  as  a  means  of 
comparison.  Well,  when  some  high-born  dame  of 
yours,  say  a  Daughter  of  the  Black  Hawk  War,  gives 
an  afternoon  reception  in  honor  of  some  weary 
lecturer  on  South  High  Street,  most  of  the  ladies 
come  on  foot ;  at  the  outside  you  can  count  up  ten  or 
95 


96  LETTERS    HOME. 

a  dozen  vehicles  at  the  front  gate,  including  family 
carryalls,  and  measly  old  third-hand  hacks  from  the 
depot.  The  men  all  walk,  and  when  they  get  inside 
they  find  the  middle-aged  and  married  women  packed 
round  the  lecturer,  trying  to  catch  the  well-worn 
pearls  of  wisdom  that  drop  from  his  lips,  and  the 
young  fellows  carrying  tea  and  chocolate  from  the 
tables  where  the  young  ladies  are  pouring,  and  doing 
their  best  to  flirt  a  little  on  the  way  without  spilling 
the  fluids.  The  girls  are  willing  enough  not  to  be 
"  presented, "  and  are  having  as  good  a  time  as  they 
can  among  themselves  in  circles  that  it  takes  all  a 
fellow's  courage  to  break  into ;  and  they  try  to  act  as 
if  he  were  intruding  when  he  does,  or  he  feels  as  if 
they  were.  The  old  fellows  hulk  round  on  the  out 
skirts,  and  keep  a  good  deal  on  the  front  porch,  and 
look  superior  and  sarcastic.  In  all,  there  are  about 
two  or  three  hundred,  and  that  takes  in  the  whole 
society  of  the  place. 

Well,  at  this  reception  of  Gasman's  the  other  day, 
there  were  carriages  stretching  from  his  house  to  the 
ends  of  the  block  both  ways,  on  both  sides  of  the 
street,  and  coming  and  going  all  the  time — all  kinds 
of  horse  and  horseless  vehicles,  glitteringly  new  and 
authoritatively  old,  with  footmen  and  coachmen  on 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO    A.    L.    WIBBERT.  97 

the  boxes,  sitting  on  their  overcoats  like  in  the  Eng 
lish  illustrations,  the  footman  with  his  hands-  on  his 
knees,  and  the  coachman  holding  the  reins  in  one 
hand,  and  the  butt  of  his  whip  on  his  thigh  with  the 
other.  The  people  were  streaming  in  and  out,  a 
steady  current,  under  a  long  canopy  from  the  curb 
stone  to  the  door,  and  the  barkers,  as  they  call  them, 
giving  the  coachmen  their  numbers  when  they  came, 
and  yelling  out  their  numbers  when  they  went.  I 
suppose  there  were  four  or  five  thousand  men  and 
women  at  that  reception,  but  after  you  got  inside  the 
house  was  so  big  that  everybody  had  room.  A 
desultory  Hungarian  band  was  modestly  tucked  away 
somewhere  among  the  tubs  of  palms  and  banks  of 
flowers,  where  it  could  be  heard  and  not  seen ;  and 
after  you  had  got  your  hat  and  coat  check,  and  join 
ed  the  ladies  of  your  party,  and  been  inspected  by 
old  Gasman  and  his  sister-in-law,  and  been  presented 
to  his  niece,  and  asked  if  you  had  met  Miss  Everwort, 
and  told,  Well,  you  must ;  you  sidled  off  with  your 
ladies,  and  looked  round  to  see  if  you  knew  any  one, 
and  pretended  to  be  glad  you  didn't ;  and  talked  to 
America  and  her  companion  as  vivaciously  as  if  you 
had  just  been  introduced.  Then  you  asked  them  if 
they  were  not  hungry,  and  when  they  owned  up,  you 


98  LETTERS    HOME. 

found  them  the  way  into  the  dining  room,  where  a 
lot  of  men  waiters  were  in  charge,  and  you  ordered 
anything  you  wanted,  and  they  brought  it  to  you. 
Everywhere  were  hundreds  of  people,  looking  like 
half  a  dozen  in  the  big  spaces,  and  all  having  the 
same  good  time  you  were.  Then  you  went  back  to 
the  drawing  room  to  try  for  a  glimpse  of  Miss 
Everwort,  and  if  you  had  our  luck  with  that  nice  old 
Bostonian,  you  were  presented  to  her,  and  came 
away  feeling  that  you  had  had  the  time  of  your  life, 
among  the  five  thousand  if  not  the  Four  Hundred. 

Of  course,  Gasman  had  overdone  it  a  little;  he  is 
new  to  the  world,  though  he  has  been  in  it  about 
sixty  years ;  but  his  reception  wasn't  a  bad  type ;  and 
you  were  excited  by  it,  and  leaned  forward  in  the 
automobile,  and  flirted  with  America  so  far  as  to  ask 
for  a  flower  out  of  her  bunch  of  violets,  and  tried  to 
smell  it,  when  she  gave  it  to  you,  under  the  cold  eye 
of  the  companion ;  the  old  gentleman,  after  a  talking- 
to  America  gave  him  for  being  rather  curt  with  our 
nice  old  Bostonian,  seemed  to  think  he  would  rather 
walk.  Yes,  it  was  all  mighty  interesting,  and  I  could 
feel  it  taking  on  just  the  right  phrases,  at  the  time. 
It  was  the  best  kind  of  material,  but  not  socially  the 
finest,  though  I  don't  know  whether  I  could  make 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO     A.    L.    WIBBERT.          99 

you  understand  the  difference  between  that  After 
noon,  and  another  Afternoon,  which  my  fine  old  Boston 
cock  got  us  asked  to  yesterday  at  the  Van  der  Doeses, 
whom  he  seems  to  be  on  familiar  terms  with.  We 
couldn't  make  out  what  the  occasion  was,  but  the  ex 
cuse  was  a  monologue  by  Miss  Crawford ;  and  I 
wouldn't  want  a  better  excuse !  It  was  the  most  ex 
quisite  piece  of  characterization  I  could  have  imagined  ; 
I  never  saw,  or  dreamt  of  seeing,  anything  like  its 
perfection;  and  after  it  was  over,  a  little  well-bred 
murmur,  and  a  little  tender  tapping  of  finger-tips  ran 
round  the  room,  and  then  the  host  and  hostess  went 
inconspicuously  up  to  the  monologuist — the  wonder 
ful  little  genius  ! — and  inaudibly  complimented  her  ; 
and  tea  began  to  come  round  of  itself,  somehow.  I 
did  not  know  but  America  had  made  a  break  with 
that  laugh  of  hers,  but  I  guess  not.  The  note  of  those 
people  seemed  to  be  doing  what  they  pleased,  if  they 
had  known  what ;  and  I  suppose  they  would  have 
laughed  if  they  had  felt  like  it ;  but  if  it  wont  appear 
invidious  to  such  an  aristocrat  as  you,  I  will  say  that 
they  hardly  seemed  up  to  the  art  of  the  thing  as  the 
people  at  Gasman's  would.  Our  old  Bostonian  was, 
though,  and  he  asked  America  if  she  would  like  to 
speak  to  Miss  Crawford,  and  he  got  Mrs.  Van  der  Does 


100  LETTERS    HOME. 

to  introdace  her ;  and  America  took  both  her  hands 
into  hers,  and  I  looked  away  for  fear  she  was  going 
to  kiss  her. 

Now,  what  I  mean  by  the  quantitative  difference 
between  New  York  and  other  places,  is  that  these 
two  sorts  of  things  keep  going  on  here  all  the  time, 
the  Gasman  sort  and  the  Van  der  Does  sort,  on  a  scale 
that  you  simply  can't  imagine  in  Wottoma.  You 
can  have  the  Gasman  sort  once  in  a  winter,  but  of 
course  not  the  Gasman  size,  when  the  right  lecturer 
comes  along  to  make  it  with ;  and  you  have  got  the 
root  of  the  Yan  der  Does  sort  in  the  first  settlers, 
which  will  break  out  a  hundred  years  from  now, 
maybe,  like  a  century  plant,  but  here  the  century 
plant  blooms  every  day.  Understand  ?  No,  you  wont, 
you  can't !  You  will  have  to  come  here  and  see  for 
yourself ;  and  that  makes  me  want  to  tell  you  some 
thing.  Don't  give  it  away,  especially  in  print,  till 
I've  tried  my  hand ;  but  old  Gasman  sent  for  me  the 
morning  after  his  reception,  and  asked  me  how  I 
would  like  to  do  something  for  the  Sunday  Signal. 
I  guess  Miss  Hally  had  been  putting  up  a  job  on  him, 
and  he  had  got  the  idea  that  I  could  write,  say,  "  The 
Impressions  of  a  Provincial, "  giving  a  simple,  frank 
account  of  New  York,  from  a  fresh  country  arrival's 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO    A.    L.    WIBBERT.         101 

point  of  view,  that  would  sweep  "this  fair  land  of 
ours"  from  ocean  to  ocean.  I  took  to  the  notion,  at 
once,  and  I  am  going  to  make  the  effort.  It  will 
give  me  a  chance  to  work  in  the  material  that  has 
been  piling  up  on  my  hands  since  I  came,  and  I  be 
lieve  I  can  do  something  that  will  plant  me  at  the 
feet,  at  least,  of  George  Ade,  if  I  can  get  the  right 
attitude ;  I'm  going  to  invent  a  character  for  my  pro 
vincial.  And  then,  Line,  don't  you  see  ?  If  I'm  ever 
in  the  saddle,  here,  I  am  going  to  pull  you  up  behind. 
If  New  York  can't  carry  double,  I  am  very  much 
mistaken. 

The  grippe  still  hangs  on  with  poor  old  Baysley, 
but  we  manage  to  rub  along,  somehow;  the  old  lady 
and  Jenny  have  got  it,  but  they  are  light  cases.  I 
still  make  the  fires  for  Essie,  though  I  feel  as  if  I 
were  kindling  them  with  the  budding  laurels  from  my 

own  brow. 

Always  yours,  Line. 

W.A. 


XVI. 

From    Miss    AMERICA    RALSON    to    Miss    CAROLINE 

DUCHENES,  Wottoma. 
THE  WALHONDIA,  January    the    nineteenth,    Nineteen 

hundred  and  two. 
My  dear  Caroline : 

I  am  so  glad  you  think  you  can  come,  and  I  will 
try  to  make  a  date  for  you — the  earlier  the  better.  I 
would  have  written  sooner  to  say  so,  but  I  have  had 
more  on  my  hands  than  usual,  as  you  will  see  by  this 
being  in  typewriting.  I  will  have  to  talk  it  over 
with  father,  and  see  what  his  engagements  are. 
March  is  not  a  very  good  month,  on  account  of 
being  nearly  all  Lent,  this  year,  but  if  you  do  not 
mind  having  rather  a  quiet  time,  it  will  be  all  right. 

Thank  you  for  the  hint.  I  supposed  it  was  off 
for  good,  but  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not 
try  to  have  it  on  again,  if  you  wish.  There  has 
been  no  allusion  to  the  natter,  since  the  first  time, 


MISS  RALSON  TO  MISS  DESCHENES.  103 

and  I  don't  know  just  how  the  land  lies.  I  should 
say  that  your  engagement  had  been  accepted  as  final, 
and  that  the  announcement  to  the  contrary  had 
better  not  come  through  me.  If  you  prefer,  you  can 
let  things  rest,  till  you  come  on,  and  then  you  can 
look  the  ground  over  for  yourself.  I  don't  see  how 
there  can  be  any  objection  to  a  girl's  changing  her 
mind  once  or  twice  if  she  wants  to. 

Do  let  me  hear  from  you  soon  again,  and   if  you 
are  still  decided  to  come  in  March,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  I  can  arrange  for  your  visit  then  as  well  as  later. 
The  great  thing  is  to  have  you  here. 
Yours  affectionately, 

AMERICA  RALSON. 


XVII. 

From  W.  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,    Wottoma. 
NEW  YORK,  Jarty,  19,  1902. 
Dear  Line: 

This  afternoon  when  I  got  home  from  a  matinee 
with  America  Ralson  and  Miss  Dennam,  I  found  the 
Baysley  family  very  much  cheered  up.  The  old 
gentleman  had  taken  a  decided  turn  for  the  better, 
and  Jenny  and  the  old  lady  were  able  to  be  about, 
helping  Essie  get  the  "tea"  which  I  knew  was  to  be 
their  evening  banquet.  My  heart  smote  me  when  I 
thought  of  the  dinner  I  was  going  down  to  have  at 
Lamarque's,  and  I  would  have  been  glad  to  ask  the 
whole  family  to  join  me  there;  but  that  was  not  prac 
ticable,  and  so  I  compromised  on  Essie.  "What  is 
the  reason  you  can't  go  with  me  to  Lamarque's  this 
evening?"  I  said,  as  if  we  had  talked  before  of  her 
going  with  me  sometime,  though  we  never  had ;  and 
the  joyful  color  flushed  up  in  her  face  and  faded  out, 
104 


WALLACE  ABDITH  TO  A.   LINCOLN  WIBBERT.   105 

and  she  answered  with  another  question,  "What  do 
you  mean? "  In  answer  I  merely  added,  "Then  we 
could  take  in  a  vaudeville  show,  and  still  get  home 
early."  "I  couldn't  leave,"  she  said,  and  she  put  the 
plate  she  was  holding  softly  down  on  the  table,  as  if 
it  were  her  last  hope,  and  sighed  so  pathetically  that 
I  saw  I  must  carry  the  thing  through.  "You  might 
ask,"  I  suggested.  "Or  no,  7  will,"  and  I  called  into 
the  kitchen  from  the  dining-room  where  we  were, 
"Mrs.  Baysley,  Essie  says  she  won't  go  with  me  to 
dinner  at  Lamarque's,  and  to  Keith's  afterwards. 
Can't  you  make  her  ?"  "Oh,  you  awful" —  Essie 
began,  catching  her  breath,  but  the  joke  was  so 
prodigious  that  none  of  them  were  proof  against  it. 
When  her  mother  made  sure  that  I  was  joking  in 
earnest — the  Baysley's  think  I  am  a  tremendous 
joker — she  said,  "Why,  of  course  Essie  must;"  and 
then  Jenny  began  to  offer  Essie  her  best  clothes ;  and 
between  refusals  and  protests,  and  laughs  and  out 
cries  from  the  women,  and  feeble  crows  of  command 
from  the  old  man  in  his  room,  Essie  was  forced  to 
drop  everything,  and  do  as  I  bid. 

They  did  get  her  very  tastefully  together,  and 
in  such  good  time  that  when  she  came  to  me  in  the 
parlor,  with  her  mother  and  sister  following  limply 


106  LETTERS   HOME. 

but  proudly  after  her,  I  was  disposed  to  linger  over 
her  sympathetically  as  long  as  they  liked.  It  is  as 
tonishing  how  soon  women  take  on  New  York  in 
their  dress  when  they  come  here.  Mrs.  Baysley  told 
me  that  these  were  just  the  girls'  old  Timber  Creek 
things ;  they  had  been  too  busy  since  they  came  to 
get  anything  for  anybody.  But  it  was  Timber  Creek 
with  the  difference  that  comes  from  studying  the 
fashions  on  the  streets  and  in  the  shop  windows  here. 
Essie  is  too  little  to  look  distinguished,  but  no  one 
is  too  little  to  be  chic,  and  chic  was  what  the  eyes  at 
Lamarque's  said  of  her  when  she  showed  like  a  pretty 
flower  through  the  rifts  of  the  cigarette  smoke :  the 
smoking  goes  on  straight  through  the  dinner  at  La- 
marque's.  Those  cub  authors  were  out  in  force  at 
their  corner  table,  and  between  their  talk  about  them 
selves  and  each  other,  I  knew  from  the  way  they 
stared  at  us  that  we  were  giving  them  a  topic.  Every 
fellow  there  was  making  mental  note  of  us,  and 
heaven  knows  how  many  poems,  sketches,  studies 
and  stories  Essie  went  into  on  the  spot.  I  laughed 
inside  to  think  how  I  had  got  the  start  of  them  all, 
and  how  none  of  them  saw  us  more  objectively  than 
I  did,  or  felt  our  quality  as  material  half  as  intelli 
gently.  I  tried  to  make  Essie  understand  who  they 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.      107 

were,  and  appreciate  their  greatness;  but  she  was 
unconscious  as  a  child  through  everything.  Of 
course  a  child  is  not  unconscious  of  its  looks  or  its 
behavior,  and  I  knew  that  she  knew  she  was  pretty 
and  was  anxious  to  be  very  correct.  She  peered 
round  to  see  whether  she  should  take  her  hat  off,  and 
then  kept  it  on,  as  if  she  had  dined  at  Lamarque's  all 
her  life.  The  lady  at  the  next  table  had  her  gloves 
on  the  table,  and  after  the  soup  came  I  saw  Essie's 
gloves  under  the  edge  of  her  plate.  The  garden — 
he  knows  me  and  my  French  and  nattered  me  and  it 
with  a  smiling  "Bonsoir,  monsieur,"  that  made 
Essie's  blue  eyes  dance — asked  whether  I  would 
have  red  wine  or  white,  and  when  it  came  white,  as  I 
had  ordered,  I  offered  to  pour  it  into  Essie's  glass, 
and  I  saw  her  tremble  as  she  gasped  out,  "Oh,  do  you 
think  I'd  better  ?"  I  said,  "Well,  it  isn't  very  good," 
and  I  put  the  cork  back  into  the  bottle  for  both  of 
us,  and  I  could  feel  her  heart  lighten  of  the  misgiv 
ings  that  the  wine  had  burdened  it  with.  She  began 
to  be  innocently  gay,  and  to  let  out  that  she  had 
noticed  everything,  and  taken  in  that  we  were  dining 
in  the  front  parlor  of  what  had  been  a  private  house, 
and  that  the  other  dining-room  was  the  back  parlor, 
and  the  wall-paper  had  not  been  changed  since  the 


108  LETTERS    HOME. 

family  had  left  the  place.  She  kept  down  her  sur 
prise  at  the  alertness  with  which  we  were  served,  and 
she  took  Lamarque's  personal  intervention,  in  the 
matter  of  crowding  in  a  table  for  new-comers  where 
there  was  already  scarcely  room  to  turn  around,  as 
things  of  a  life-long  experience,  and  she  helped  me 
receive  with  dignity  the  old  fellow's  compliment 
when  he  visited  us  to  hope  that  we  found  everything 
right.  At  first  she  was  not  going  to  speak  of  the 
food,  but  I  spoke  of  it  and  then  she  was  very  glad 
to  be  allowed  by  politeness  to  praise  its  variety  and 
novelty.  I  knew  she  had  never  seen  a  dinner  in 
courses  before,  but  she  went  through  it  as  if  it  were 
her  habit,  keeping  an  eye  on  me  to  see  what  I  liked 
or  left,  and  following  suit.  I  could  see  she  was 
anxious  not  to  disgrace  me,  in  any  way,  and  I  made 
it  easy  for  her  now  and  then  to  pass  a  dish  that  she 
did  not  want,  by  saying  that  I  never  cared  much  for 
that  dish.  It  was  not  a  bouillabaisse  night,  and  I 
pretended  to  be  very  sorry  for  that ;  but  it  was  an 
ice-cream  night,  and  I  could  see  that  when  the 
small  flat  block  of  chocolate  and  vanilla  came,  Essie 
was  without  a  regret.  Over  the  little  cups  of  coffee 
she  began  to  betray  that  she  had  been  noticing  the 
company,  and  she  gave  an  excellent  imitation  of 


WALLACE    ARDITH  TO    A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    109 

being  supremely  interested  in  my  favorites:  the  old 
Spaniard,  or  old  Italian,  who  always  gets  half  way 
through  his  dinner  at  a  small  corner  table  before  he 
is  joined  by  a  deeply  hatted  lady  and  her  husband 
coming  freshly  in  from  the  cold  outside,  and  pressing 
about  the  grate  at  their  backs  till  they  forget  it  in 
their  criticism  of  the  dishes ;  the  prematurely  gray- 
haired  and  eye-glassed  lady  whom  I  call  my  Mystery, 
and  who  eats  all  through  her  dinner  with  a  book 
propped  open  against  a  tumbler;  the  middle-aged 
French  mother  with  her  daughter  still  in  short  skirts 
and  very  jeune  fille,  whom  she  lets  see  nothing  except 
out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes,  but  gives  half  a  bottle 
of  Lamarque's  California  claret,  while  the  girl  sits 
demure,  and  does  not  speak  even  when  Lamarque 
comes  up  to  compliment  her  mother  in  their  native 
tongue. 

I  looked  at  my  watch  at  last,  and  said,  If  we  ex 
pected  to  get  in  many  of  those  stunts  at  Keith's  ! 
and  Essie  started  nervously,  and  then  controlled  her 
self  and  let  old  Lamarque  help  her  on  with  her  jacket 
(he  likes  to  help  the  ladies  on  with  their  jackets)  as 
unconsciously  as  if  she  were  used  to  it  every  night. 
She  bowed  silently  to  his  "Bon  soir,  madame ! "  and 
went  out  before  me  so  gracefully,  so  prettily,  that 


110  LETTERS   HOME. 

happening  to  look  back  over  my  shoulder  at  the  cub 
authors'  table,  I  saw  them  all  staring  their  admira 
tion,  and  one  fellow  bowed  involuntarily.  "Do  they 
know  you?"  she  asked,  and  then  I  reflected  that  a 
girl  always  has  eyes  in  the  back  of  her  head,  and 
need  not  seem  to  be  turning  round  to  see  what  con 
cerns  her.  I  mumbled  something  about  its  being  the 
custom  for  people  to  bow  at  Lamarque's  to  the  part 
ing  guests;  but  I  was  easily  more  rattled  than  she 
was. 

In  fact,  her  ignorance  of  the  world  that  she  has 
been  living  on  the  edge  of  for  the  last  six  months 
is  so  untroubled  that  everything  but  the  innocent  joy 
of  our  night's  adventure  was  lost  upon  her.  She  is 
scarcely  more  than  a  child  in  years,  and  she  is  still  a 
child  in  nature,  so  that  I  could  give  her  this  pleasure 
as  safely  as  if  she  were  ten  years  old ;  and  I  decided 
not  to  do  it  by  halves.  The  gorgeous  old  fellow  in 
livery  who  stands  before  Keith's  and  owns  up  when 
you  put  him  on  his  honor,  said  there  was  not  a  seat 
left  in  the  house,  and  her  face  fell ;  but  I  asked  cool 
ly,  "What  is  the  matter  with  a  couple  of  box-seats  ? " 
and  he  confessed  that  there  might  be  some  box-seats; 
I  could  try  inside.  So  I  blew  in  two  extra  half 
dollars,  and  before  Essie  knew  it  we  were  in  the  stage- 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    Ill 

box  rapt  in  the  monologue  of   the  Man  in  the  Green 
Gloves. 

I  won't  go  through  the  whole  list  of  standard 
stunts :  the  girl  with  the  Southern  accent  that  sings 
pathetic  ballads  of  the  lost  cause,  and  then  coon  songs 
for  her  recalls;  the  tramp-magician  that  praises  and 
blames  himself  with  "  Oh,  pretty  good !  oh,  pretty 
rotten ! "  the  tremendously  fashionable  comedy  sketch, 
all  butlers  and  footmen,  and  criss-cross  love-making 
between  Jack  and  some  one  else's  wife  so  as  to  cure 
Jack's  wife  of  making  love  with  the  other  lady's 
husband  and  convince  her  that  there  is  nobody  like 
Jack ;  the  Viennese  dancers,  and  the  German  acro 
bats  and  acrobatesses ;  the  colored  monologuist,  and 
the  man  in  a  high  hat  and  long  overcoat,  unbuttoned 
to  show  his  evening  dress,  who  balances  feathers  on 
the  point  of  his  nose  and  keeps  a  paper  wad,  an  open 
umbrella  and  a  small  dinner  bell  tossing  in  the  air : 
they  were  all  there  and  more  too,  and  nothing  that 
any  of  them  said  or  did  was  lost  upon  Essie  Baysley. 
I  could  see  her  storing  it  up  for  the  family's  joy  at 
second  hand ;  and  she  did  not  give  herself  away  by 
any  silly  outcries  or  comments.  She  bore  herself  like 
a  lady ;  if  not  like  a  real  lady,  then  like  an  ideal  lady ; 
she  watched  the  stage  with  one  eye,  and  me  with  the 


112  LETTERS    HOME. 

other,  and  after  she  had  taken  a  modest  fill  of  these 
pleasures,  she  asked  me  the  time,  and  said  she  ought 
to  he  going,  for  she  did  not  want  to  leave  them  alone 
very  long. 

She  meant  the  other  Baysleys,  and  would  not  let 
me  stop  for  ice-cream  on  the  way  home,  and  then 
was  penitent  and  apologetic  for  not  thinking  I  might 
have  wanted  it  very  much.  As  a  study  she  was 
charming,  but  in  and  for  herself,  a  little  of  little  Essie 
I  found  went  a  long  way ;  and  an  evening  of  her  con 
versation  did  not  end  prematurely  at  half  past  ten. 
I  delivered  her  over  intact  to  her  mother  and  sister, 
waiting  up  for  us,  without  so  much  as  claiming  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  the  kiss  that  Timber  Creek  usage 
would  have  entitled  me  to.  In  fact  I  forced  down 
the  ghost  of  a  silly  apprehension  about  myself  and 
the  child  which  I  had  felt,  off  and  on,  ever  since  she 
broke  down  and  cried  that  night  when  I  condoled 
with  her  about  her  father's  sickness,  and  the  trouble 
they  were  all  in.  I  had  given  her  the  time  of  her 
life,  and  heaven  had  kept  me  from  saying  or  doing 
anything  to  mar  it.  I  had  done  the  whole  hapless 
family  the  greatest  pleasure  that  they  had  had  since 
they  came  to  New  York,  and  made  them  feel,  as  the 
old  man,  wakeful  with  the  rest,  croaked  out  from  his 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    113 

sick  room,  like  they  were  back  in  Timber  Creek  again. 
Their  gratitude  cost  me  just  $3.50,  counting  in  car 
fares  and  the  fee  to  the  waiter  at  Lamarque's,  and  I 
call  that  cheap.  I  don't  exactly  see  how  the  expe 
rience  will  work  into  the  "  Impressions  of  a  Provin 
cial,"  unless  as  an  episode  of  Bohemia,  or  something 
of  the  sort,  but  it  is  pure  literature  as  it  lies  in  my 
mind,  and  I  lend  it  to  you,  my  dear  Lincoln,  for  your 
exclusive  enjoyment  till  I  can  get  a  scheme  that  will 
carry  it  to  the  public. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  A. 

I  find  a  note  here  from  the  glorious  America,  re 
minding  me  of  my  promise  (I  never  made  any !)  for 
the  opera  Monday  night.  I  am  to  dine  at  their  hotel 
first,  she  tells  me. 


XVIII. 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.    DENNAM> 
Lake  Ridge,  N.  Y. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  19,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

This  has  been  "  my  busy  day  "  with  Miss  Ralson, 
and  Mrs.  Ralson  has  not  been  in  it  for  a  moment. 
It  has  lasted  for  a  good  while,  and  I  have  just  now 
got  home  after  dining  at  the  hotel,  and  talking  over 
with  Miss  Ralson  the  matinee  we  were  at  this  after 
noon.  That  is,  I  talked  of  the  matinee,  and  she 
talked  of  Mr.  Ardith,  who  went  with  us.  He  came 
on  here,  you  know,  in  December  to  put  his  broken 
heart  together;  and  now  it  seems  that  the  girl  who 
broke  it  is  sorry  she  did  it.  At  any  rate  she  has  dis 
engaged  herself  from  the  man  that  she  jilted  him  for, 
and  is  feeling  round  to  see  how  she  can  get  Mr. 
Ardith  back.  This  is  the  short  of  it,  but  the  long  of 
it  is  much  more  exciting,  and  I  wish  I  could  give  it 
114 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     115 

to  you.  As  Miss  Ralson  says,  it  would  make  a  book, 
and  I  am  not  writing  a  book.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
ought  to  be  writing  this  letter,  but  I  know  that  you 
will  be  as  silent  as  the  grave,  and  so  I  will  keep  on. 

The  joke  is  that  before  Miss  Ralson  knew  anything 
about  the  disengagement  she  had  asked  the  girl  here 
to  visit  her;  they  are  old  friends,  and  she  was  very 
cordial,  but  to-day  I  have  written  a  letter  for  her, 
taking  back  a  good  deal  of  the  cordiality,  and  a  little 
of  the  invitation;  and  if  you  can't  guess  why,  you 
are  not  the  mother  I  took  you  for.  Mr.  Ardith  seems 
to  have  been  here,  day  in  and  day  out,  ever  since  he 
came  to  New  York,  and  he  has  not  had  to  push  in. 
There !  I  will  say  that  much,  and  I  am  ashamed  of 
saying  anything.  If  I  add  that  there  is  no  account 
ing  for  tastes,  and  that  if  Mr.  Ardith  was  the 
Last  Man,  I  would  take  my  chance  with  the  next,  you 
can  understand  how  I  feel  about  it.  Of  course  I 
keep  a  straight  face,  and  when  Miss  Ralson  takes 
ground  so  high  that  no  personal  feeling  can  be  sup 
posed  to  be  up  there  with  her,  I  don't  do  anything  to 
let  her  dream  that  I  am  on,  as  she  would  say.  It  is 
no  business  of  mine  if  she  wants  to  throw  herself 
away ;  only  if  she  does  I  suppose  I  shall  be  out  of 
a  job. 


116  LETTERS   HOME. 

And  I  had  begun  to  like  the  job,  so  much !  Yes 
mother,  your  bad  little  girl  finds  life  in  the  Walhon- 
dia  very,  very  comfortable,  and  if  there  were  no 
money  in  the  job  still  it  is  so  comfortable  that  she 
could  not  bear  to  have  it  stop.  Besides,  I  do  like 
the  Ralsons,  the  whole  family,  and  I  don't  know 
but  my  affections  would  go  round  the  whole  Trust. 
They  are  good  people;  even  the  wicked  father  is  good 
in  his  way;  and  as  for  the  mother,  well,  I  won't  say 
you  haven't  some  cause  to  be  jealous.  She  depends 
upon  me  so  much  that  perhaps  she  would  wrant  me 
to  keep  on  here,  after  her  daughter  left  off ;  but  I'm 
afraid  I  should  be  so  heartbroken  I  couldn't  stay. 

I  got  my  envelope,  as  the  wage-earners  say,  this 
evening,  and  I  enclose  the  pleasing  contents  to  you. 
I  don't  suppose  you  will  want  to  anticipate  the  in 
terest,  and  I  certainly  don't  want  to  give  old  Grottel 
any  agreeable  surprises.  But  my  first  earnings  were 
news  too  good  to  keep.  They  may  be  my  last,  so 
be  careful  of  them.  If  Miss  Ralson  asked  me  my 
honest  opinion  of  Mr.  Ardith,  aud  pressed  me  to 
give  it,  I  am  afraid  I  should,  and  that  would  settle 
me.  With  love  to  Lizzie, 

Your  affectionate  daughter, 

FRANCES, 


XIX. 

From  WALLACE    ARDITH    to  A.    LINCOLN  WIBBERT, 

Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Jarfy  W,  1902. 
My  dear  Line : 

I  wish,  while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind,  that  I  could 
give  you  a  notion  of  my  whole  evening,  as  a  pendant 
for  you  to  hang  on  memory's  wall  with  the  picture  of 
Bohemian  life  which  I  painted  for  you  in  my  last. 
This  has  in  fact  been  another  episode  of  Bohemian 
life  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  and  in  a  kind  of  way — a 
more  expensive  way — the  Kalsons  are  gypsying  here, 
too.  Perhaps  even  our  ancient  Boston  friend  has 
broken  bounds  in  our  company,  and  is  secretly  out 
lawed  along  with  us ;  though  as  far  as  looks  go  we 
were  all  as  absolutely  conventional  as  any  party  in 
the  boxes  of  the  opera  to-night. 

Apparently  the  party  was  made  for  him,  and  I  was 
asked  to  meet  him  at  dinner,  either  from  the  social 

m 


118  LETTERS    HOME. 

poverty  of  the  Ralsons,  or  because  I  am  social  riches, 
which  they  chose  to  lavish  on  him  with  the  gilt-edge 
victuals  and  drink.  I  leave  you  to  decide  the  ques 
tion,  as  old  Ralson  himself  would.  He  was  rather 
pressed  into  the  service  of  America,  and  he  did  not 
go  beyond  looking  the  part  of  indulgent  father,  and 
munificent  host.  He  had  one  of  the  best  tables,  es 
pecially  decorated  for  the  occasion,  with  the  costliest 
floral  exhibit  that  money  could  buy,  and  served  by 
several  of  the  handsomest  and  most  exorbitant  slaves, 
under  the  eye  of  their  chief  who  kept  it  vigilantly  out 
for  them  from  any  quarter  where  he  happened  to  be. 
In  that  vast,  indiscriminate  splendor,  Ralson  had 
bought  himself  as  much  personal  attention  as  he  could 
have  got  at  Larmarque's  for  fifty  cents ;  but  having 
achieved  the  distinction,  he  rested  in  his  dignity  of 
host,  and  let  his  daughter  manage  the  talk.  I  must 
say,  he  looked  the  part  of  an  old  barbaric  aristocrat 
to  perfection,  with  his  long  white  mustache  sweeping 
across  his  face,  and  his  white  hair  snowily  drifted  on 
his  head.  I  hope  I  am  not  indiscreet  in  saying  that 
America's  shoulders  dismayed  me  with  their  marble 
mass ;  I  ought  to  be  used  to  them  by  this  time,  but 
to-night  they  seemed  to  me  a  fresh  revelation  of  her 
beauty. 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    119 

I  will  not  specify  my  own  share  in  the  ensemble, 
but  together  I  think  we  gave  an  imitation  of  people 
who  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  dining  in  that 
state  and  going  to  the  opera  afterwards,  which  ought 
to  have  imposed  upon  even  such  an  old  worldling  as 
Mr.  Binning.  I  do  not  know  how  far  he  divined  us ;  in 
the  talk  between  him  and  Mr.  Ralson  which  I  caught, 
I  heard  him  gently  offering  the  old  fellow  opportuni 
ties  of  self-interpretation  which  I  do  not  believe  were 
all  wasted.  They  even  left  him  exhausted  in  one 
sense  if  not  another,  arid  America  promptly  rescued 
Mr.  Binning  from  his  silence,  and  turned  him  over  to 
me,  with  a  trust  in  my  ability  to  take  care  of  him  in 
conversation  which  I  hope  was  not  mistaken.  I  would 
rather  have  talked  with  her,  to  be  honest,  but  I  was 
not  going  back  on  her. 

I  believe  the  old  fellow  enjoyed  every  moment  of 
it,  but  for  us  it  was  work ;  and  it  was  work  between 
the  acts  at  the  opera,  where  we  renewed  the  struggle 
with  fresh  vigor.  There  is  no  use  pretending,  my 
dear  Lincoln,  that  there  is  any  common  ground  ex 
cept  mortality  between  youthf ulness  and  elderliness ; 
they  can  be  a  little  curious  about  each  other,  but  not 
interested  after  that  little  curiosity  is  satisfied.  The 
best  time  of  our  evening  was  once  when  Mr.  Binning 


120  LETTERS  HOME. 

went  out  to  call  on  some  friends  of  his  in  one  of  the 
boxes,  and  Mr.  Ralson  went  out,  as  he  did  at  the  end 
of  every  act  for  something  to  support  him  through 
the  next.  Then  America  became  suddenly  psycholog 
ical,  and  asked  me  what  I  thought  all  that  display 
was  like.  She  meant  the  necks  and  arms  and  dresses 
and  jewels,  and  the  black  and  blond  heads,  and  the 
blur  of  faces,  which  the  opera  glass  distinguishes  and 
the  eye  leaves  in  a  shining  nebulosity.  Of  course  I 
said,  *'  Like  a  terraced  garden  of  flowers, "  but  she 
answered,  "  No,  like  a  glorified  confectioner's,  "  ;  and  I 
had  to  own  that  with  the  weak,  pale  tones  of  the 
house  decorations  and  the  electric  lights  accenting  the 
prevailing  pinks  and  whites,  and  the  golden  and 
glassy  surfaces  of  the  women,  and  all  the  sharp  varia 
tions  of  light  colors,  it  was  of  the  effect  of  candy. 
Then  she  rather  astonished  me  by  bursting  out: 
"  Huylers,  Huylers !  chocolates,  and  peppermint 
candies,  and  ice-cream  sodas  !  And  I  am  getting  sick 
of  it  all !  Those  people  seem  to  be  willing  to  live  on 
sweets,  but  I  should  like  a  few  morsels  of  plain  hu 
manity,  shouldn't  you  ? "  I  suggested  that  those 
would  be  cannibalism  for  me ;  and  she  said  "  Oh, 
pshaw !  you  know  what  I  mean, "  and  without  any 
act  of  transition,  she  said  she  would  like  to  know 


WALLACE  AKDITH  TO    A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    121 

what  I  really  thought  of  her,  anyway.  I  ventured  to 
say,  "  Everything ! "  and  that  made  her  laugh,  but 
sadly ;  and  she  said  she  hoped  no  friend  of  hers  sup 
posed  she  cared  for  the  kind  of  life  she  had  been 
leading,  or  trying  to  lead.  Then  again  she  leaped 
the  chasm  and  demanded  to  know  how  I  would  like 
to  be  like  Mr.  Binning,  at  his  age ;  she  supposed  he 
was  intellectual,  too.  "  If  I  could  write  poetry, "  she 
zigzagged  on,  "  I  should  write  a  poem  about  such  a 
thing  as  this,  where  everybody  is  playing  a  part,  as 
much  off  the  stage  as  on  it,  and  try  to  show  what 
each  one  really  was  thinking,  all  the  time.  "  A  sort 
of  masque,  "  I  suggested,  and  she  said,  "  I  don't 
know  what  a  masque  is, "  and  just  then  Mr.  Binning 
came  back,  and  began  to  make  his  neat,  apt  remarks 
about  the  opera.  It  was  Tristan  und  Isolde,  and  he 
said  he  was  of  the  age  of  Italian  opera  himself,  and  a 
thing  like  this  made  him  feel  as  if  he  had  outlived 
his  youth,  "  Which  people  wouldn't  suspect,  other 
wise,  "  he  concluded. 

He  seemed  to  have  felt  the  hardship  of  having  his 
flow  of  soul  dammed  up  in  him  where  he  had  been. 
But  I  wished  he  had  stayed  away  longer,  for  that 
revelation  of  America  was  precious.  There  was  a 
little  more  of  it  when  we  had  dropped  Mr.  Binning  at 


122  LETTERS   HOME. 

his  hotel  after  the  opera,  and  I  could  see  her  kick  her 
revered  father  on  the  shin  with  her  slipper;  Mr. 
Binning's  going  had  left  us  both  on  the  seat  in  front 
of  her.  "  Don't  you  wish  you  were  back  in  Wottoraa, 
old  gentleman  ? "  she  asked,  and  when  he  grunted 
that  New  York  was  good  enough  for  him,  she 
said,  "  Well,  /  do.  "  She  rather  snubbed  me  when  I 
offered  some  excuses  for  the  metropolis,  and  said, 
"  Oh,  yes,  it's  all  copy  for  you. "  (She  has  got  the 
word  from  me,  I  suppose.)  At  the  hotel  she  jumped 
out  and  ran  over  the  carpeted  pavement  toward  the 
door,  as  if  she  were  not  going  to  bid  me  good-night, 
and  then  she  whirled  round,  and  caught  my  hand  in 
her  large  clasp.  "Are  you  coming  to  lunch  to 
morrow — with  Miss  Dennam  ?  "  I  answered  mechan 
ically,  I  supposed  so,  and  she  said,  "  Well,  see  that 
you  do,"  and  wrung  my  hand,  and  ran  on  again, 
while  her  father  smiled  under  one  side  of  his  mus 
tache,  and  winked  a  sleepy  eye  at  me. 

As  I  understand  it,  what  this  wink  expressed  was 
nothing  personal  to  me,  but  only  something  to  the  ef 
fect  that  America  was  doing  exactly  what  she  pleased ; 
it  recognized  that  she  always  had  done  so,  and  could 
be  trusted  always  to  do  so,  and  still  to  do  the  right 
thing.  It  gave  me  the  sense  of  a  sublime  faith  in 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  LINCOLN  WIBBERT.    123 

her  on  his  part,  which  was  to  the  credit  of  both,  and 
it  made  me  like  the  old  fellow  better  than  I  have.  I 
don't  know  that  I  have  disliked  anything  but  his 
money,  or  rather  the  way  he  got  it;  but  even  that 
looks  less  baleful  in  the  light  of  his  wholesale  love 
for  such  a  wholesouled  girl.  There  is  growth  in  that 
girl;  she  can  think  as  well  as  feel,  and  I  begin  to 
respect  her  mind  as  well  as  her  nature,  which  is  laid 
out  on  the  largest  scale.  You  are  not  to  imagine 
that  there  is  anything  but  the  most  dispassionate 
appreciation  in  this.  I  have  had  my  medicine,  and  I 

am  cured. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  ARDITH, 


XX. 

From  MB.  OTIS   BINNING    to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 
Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  21,  1902. 
My  Dear  Sister : 

Your  letter  found  itself  punctually  at  the  Perennial, 
this  morning,  when  less  punctually  I  found  myself 
at  my  nine  o'clock  breakfast  there.  It  added  the 
fragrant  aroma  of  your  spirit  to  that  of  my  coffee, 
and  the  joint  stimulus  ought  to  be  sufficient  for  the 
pleasing  task  of  answering  it  as  instantly  as  you  re 
quire.  But  if,  at  this  pleasant  window  overlooking 
two  miles  of  woodland  in  the  Park,  I  fail  of  the  re 
sponsive  inspiration,  blame  not  me,  but  the  hospital 
ities  of  my  Ralsons,  which  began  last  night  with 
dinner,  and  ended  with  opera.  As  you  hardily  deny 
and  disclaim  any  interest  in  my  generalizations  con 
cerning  their  kind,  and  desire  only  my  personalizations 
concerning  them,  and  more  specifically  her,  you  will 
124 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.    WALTER  BINNING.  125 

perhaps  forgive  them  for  getting  so  promptly  into  the 
excuses  with  which  every  letter  ought  to  open. 

As  nearly  as  I  can  understand,  the  affair  was  made 
for  me,  in  recognition  of  some  civilities  of  mine,  and 
if  they  added  my  young  friend  from  Iowa — I  forget 
whether  I  have  ever  said  his  name  was  Ardith — it 
was  no  more  from  Miss  Ralson's  wish  to  have  him  for 
herself  than  from  her  desire  to  save  her  father  and 
me  from  each  other.  The  mysterious  Mrs.  Ralson  is 
so  invalided  as  never  to  appear  within  my  social  ken, 
and  the  Trust  himself  is  not  of  a  conversation  that 
holds  out  long  in  my  quarter.  He  early  decided  that 
I  was  intellectual,  I  think,  and  with  the  admirable 
frankness  of  his  class,  he  conceived  of  me — no  doubt 
in  a  delicate  compliment  to  your  sex, — as  a  kind  of 
mental  and  moral  woman,  to  whom  a  real  man,  a 
business  man,  could  have  nothing  to  say  after  the 
primary  politenesses.  I  do  not  know  why  he  should 
rank  me  below  Mr.  Ardith,  as  I  feel  he  does,  unless 
it  is  because  Mr.  Ardith  is  still  young  enough  to  be 
finally  saved  from  intellectuality,  and  subsequently 
dedicated  to  commerciality.  But  in  the  meantime  he 
seems  to  have  agreed  with  his  daughter  that  the  in 
terposition  of  this  nice  boy's  mental  substance  was 
our  only  hope  against  wearing  upon  each  other.  The 


126  LETTERS    HOME. 

boy  himself  seemed  to  have  the  same  inspiration,  and 
Miss  Ralson  and  he  rent  their  souls  asunder,  from 
time  to  time,  and  filled  the  precarious  space  between 
the  Trust  and  me  when  the  friction  of  our  reciprocal 
silences  became  too  apparent. 

They  did  not  know  it,  but  I  fancy,  my  dear  Mar 
garet,  that  these  sacrifices  bored  them.  It  was  worse 
at  the  opera  than  at  the  dinner  even,  for  the  Trust 
wont  out  at  the  end  of  each  act  and  did  not  come 
back  till  the  curtain  had  risen  on  the  next;  so  that 
though  it  does  not  much  amuse  me  to  call  on  people 
in  their  boxes,  I  left  those  poor  young  things  to 
themselves  as  often  as  I  could.  I  would  much  rather 
have  stayed  and  talked  with  them,  but  beside  the 
congenital  difficulty  that  youth  has  in  orienting  itself 
with  age  (or  middle  age,  if  you  civilly  insist)  and 
getting  all  sorts  of  hindering  scruples  and  respects 
that  intercept  the  common  view,  out  of  the  way,  they 
were  drawn  exclusively  together  by  the  passion  whose 
charming  play  I  was  so  loath  to  miss  the  least  of.  It 
is  in  that  exquisite  moment  when  alone  such  a  thing 
can  interest  a  third  person :  it  had  not  yet  owned  it 
self  to  either,  I  fancy ;  when  both  have  owned  it, 
then  the  blow  is  given ;  it  might  as  well  be  marriage, 
and  done  with  it. 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.      127 

That  it  is  coming  to  that,  with  whatever  fond  de 
lays  and  wanderings,  I  have  no  doubt,  and  that  it  is 
arriving  more  rapidly  with  her  than  with  him  is  quite 
as  certain.  That  is  what  forms  for  me  its  peculiar 
fascination,  which  is  also  a  poignant  regret  that  you 
are  not  here  to  share  it  with  me  at  first  hand.  These 
young  people  are  really  worthy  of  your  observance, 
Margaret;  for  though  they  are  not,  by  the  widest 
stretch  of  charity,  to  be  accounted  of  that  Boston 
cousinship  which  nature  has  made  so  large  as  to  in 
clude  nearly  every  type  of  merit,  still  they  have  a 
wilding  beauty  of  being,  at  least  in  this  supreme  mo 
ment,  which  I  think  you  would  feel  beyond  any  one 
else.  You  have  the  poetic  imagination  to  which  the 
girl's  greater  courage  of  her  emotions  would  justify 
itself ;  and  when  you  saw  her  "  eyes  of  sumptuous 
expectation,"  fixed  on  him,  as  if  in  the  brute  phrase, 
she  could  eat  him,  your  generous  instinct  would  find 
the  anthropophagy  divine. 

As  for  the  youth,  I  am  sure  he  would  at  least  not 
be  sorry  to  be  eaten.  Yes,  I  am  sure  of  that ;  or  else 
I  am  sure  that  in  his  place  I  should  not.  It  was  de 
lightful,  when  I  came  back  just  before  the  last  act, 
to  see  them  struggle  away  from  their  interest  in  each 
other,  and  turn  to  me  with  the  topic  it  had  masked 


128  LETTERS  HOME. 

itself  in.  "We  were  talking,"  she  promptly  began, 
"  about  the  play  off  the  stage  here,"  and  he  turned 
to  me  as  if  he  were  intensely  anxious  for  my  wis 
dom.  "  Have  you  ever  noticed  the  programme  ? "  and 
she  gave  me  her  play  bill,  opened  to  that  monumental 
leaf  on  which  the  names  of  the  box-owners,  and  the 
nights  when  they  appear,  are  inscribed.  "  Do  you 
think  that  is  good  taste  ? " 

Then  I  began  to  take  a  Polonius  part  in  another 
play,  more  subjective  than  the  make-believe  of  the 
boxes,  and  entered  upon  a  disquisition  of  American 
civilization,  of  which  that  leaf  seemed  to  me  one  of 
the  most  signal  expressions.  I  said  that  we  were  the 
frankest  people  in  the  world  in  recognizing  the  thing 
that  was,  and  that  when  our  democracy  found  itself 
in  the  possession  of  an  aristocracy,  with  coronets  and 
tiaras  and  diadems  of  precious  stones,  it  wished  to 
feel  the  fact  in  its  bones.  It  was  not  the  nobility  in 
the  boxes  who  wanted  that  list  printed ;  they  existed 
but  for  each  other  alone ;  and  it  was  the  commonalty 
in  the  parquet  and  uppermost  galleries  who  enviously 
exulted  in  it.  I  added  that  of  course  it  was  droll, 
and  that  in  the  presence  of  the  old  American  ideal  it 
might  make  one's  flesh  creep ;  but  that  the  old  Amer 
ican  ideal  was  nowadays  principally  appreciable  by 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.    WALTER  BINNING.    129 

its  absence ;  and  how,  after  all,  did  that  leaf  essentially 
differ  from  the  repetitions  of  the  society  intelligence 
in  all  the  papers  ? 

The  young  people  followed  me  with  an  ostensible 
constancy ;  they  applauded  the  best  points ;  I  believe 
Mr.  Ardith  felt  a  literary  quality  in  what  I  was  say 
ing  ;  but  she  was  hearing  him  in  it  all,  and  in  the  end 
my  discourse  was  a  solution  of  themselves,  in  which 
they  were  both  chiefly  conscious  of  each  other.  It 
amused  me,  but  at  last  saddened  me,  and  when  I  got 
home  to  bed,  I  reflected  long  upon  the  case.  It  was 
so  old,  that  love  business,  and  though  it  had  the  con 
ceit  of  an  eternal  novelty  in  its  dim  antiquity  and 
did  freshen  itself  up  in  the  perpetually  changing  con 
ditions,  it  was  really  the  most  decrepit  of  the  human 
interests. 

I  expect  you  to  deny  this,  and  in  making  you  a 
present  of  my  evening's  experience,  I  promise  not  to 
take  it  hard  of  you  if  you  say  it  is  perfectly  charm 
ing,  and  altogether  different  from  the  stale  rubbish 
in  the  novels  you  have  been  reading. 

OTIS. 


XXI. 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.    DENNAM, 
Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan'y  21,  1902. 
Dear  Folks: 

I  include  Lizzie  in  the  address  because  I  know  that 
she  will  enjoy  this  letter  as  much  as  you,  mother,  and 
because  she  ought  to  share  fully  in  the  guilt  of  it,  if 
it  is  wrong  to  write  it.  I  don't  know  as  it's  betraying 
a  confidence,  exactly,  for  there  was  nothing  less  con 
fided,  as  I  understand  such  things.  But  anyway,  I 
am  tempted  beyond  my  strength,  and  here  goes  ! 

Miss  Ralson  certainly  is  funnier  than  a  goat.  She 
had  Mr.  Ardith  here  to-day  again  lunching,  as  usual ; 
she  has  got  to  telling  him  it  is  to  meet  me  ;  and  af 
ter  it  was  over,  and  he  was  gone,  she  began  on  him, 
almost  as  soon  as  his  back  was  turned.  I  must  try 
to  give  you  what  she  said  in  her  own  words,  for 
they  are  half  the  fun.  She  said,  "Now,  Miss 
130 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.   DENNAM.    131 

Dennam,  I  really  did  make  this  lunch  to  have  Mr. 
Ardith  meet  you ;  for  I  wanted  you  to  look  him  care 
fully  over,  and  tell  me  just  what  you  think  of  him. 
You  needn't  ask  why,  but  when  you  have  given  me 
your  candid  opinion,  I  will  tell  you  why.  I  don't 
promise  to  be  ruled  by  your  opinion,  so  you  needn't 
be  afraid  to  speak  up,  for  you  wont  be  held  respon 
sible.  Begin  !  Do  you  think  he's  handsome  ? " 

Her  way  of  talking  helped  me  put  my  back  up, 
and  I  answered  as  plumply  as  she  asked,  "  He  isn't 
my  style  of  beauty,  but  I  do  think  he's  handsome. 
I  like  a  larger  man;  and  I'm  so  old-fashioned 
that  I  prefer  a  man  with  a  beard,  or  a  mustache,  at 
least,  instead  of  clean-shaved.  I  think  your  father 
must  have  been  a  very  handsome  man, "  and  I  didn't 
say  this  to  natter  her,  and  she  knew  it.  "  Father  was 
very  well  in  his  day,  but  the  style  is  different,  now, 
and  Mr.  Ardith  is  more  in  the  style.  Do  you  think 
he's  good  2 "  "  I  don't  know  what  he's  done !  "  "  Good 
ness  is  being  as  well  as  doing,  and  you  needn't  try  to 
slip  out  of  it  that  way.  Do  you  think  he's  selfish  ?  " 
"Yes,  I  do.  I  think  all  the  men  I've  ever  seen 
are  selfish,  except  my  father.  "  "  Well,  that's  so,  and 
I  don't  suppose  some  people  would  let  me  except  my 
father,  though  /  know  he's  the  best  father  in  the. 


132  LETTERS    HOME. 

world.  Yes,  I  suppose  Mr.  Ardith  may  be  called 
selfish. " 

She  looked  a  little  down,  and  I  had  to  say,  "  I 
shouldn't  call  him  selfish  so  much  as  self-centered. 
He's  so  wrapped  up  in  what  he's  doing,  or  going  to 
do,  that  he  can't  think  of  anybody  else.  He  never  does 
nice  little  polite,  thoughtful  things  like  Mr.  Binning, 
for  instance.  The  woman  that  married  Mr.  Ardith  " — 
"  It  hasn't  come  to  that  point  in  the  conversation  yet,  " 
she  broke  in,  and  I  had  to  laugh ;  she  kept  her  face 
straight.  "But  I  see  what  you  mean.  She  would 
have  to  go  way  back  and  sit  down  when  he  wanted  to 
work.  Well,  go  on  ! "  She  put  up  her  hands  and 
clasped  them  behind  her  neck,  the  way  her  father 
does,  and  she  slid  down  in  her  chair  like  him,  and — 
if  I  must  say  it — stretched  her  legs  out  before  her, 
as  he  does  his,  when  he  is  feeling  just  right ;  and  I 
suppose  she  will  be  his  figure  at  his  age.  "  Do  you 
think  he's  in  love?"  "No,  I  don't.  With  Miss 
Deschenes,  you  mean  ? "  She  sat  up.  "  With  Miss 
Desckenes !  He  never  was  in  love  with  that  conceited, 
cold-hearted,  lean,  black  little —  Or,  if  he  ever  was, 
he's  good  and  over  it  long  ago.  I  mean  with  me  !  " 

Well,  mother — and  Lizzie — that  did  rather  take 
my  breath,  used  as  I  am  to  her  frankness ;  but  I  was 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     133 

not  going  to  be  scared  into  saying  anything  I  did  not 
think,  and  I  said,  "  I  think  he's  in  love  with  himself.  " 
I  decided  that  this  was  noncommittal  enough,  but  it 
did  not  daunt  Miss  Ralson.  She  laughed  and  said, 
"  Well,  so  am  I,  and  I  don't  wonder  at  him  a  bit. 
He'll  be  in  love  with  me  fast  enough,  when  I  say  the 
word  ;  and  I've  only  been  waiting  to  be  sure  that  I'm 
in  love  with  him.  And  now  I  am  sure.  I  wanted 
to  hug  him,  he's  so  dear,  all  through  the  opera  last 
night,  but  I  didn't  because  I  hated  to  scandalize  him ; 
and  to-day  when  he  went  away  it  was  all  I  could  do 
to  keep  from  saying,  *  Take  me  with  you,  precious, 
and  don't  remember  to  bring  me  back ! '  He's  good, 
if  he  is  selfish;  and  he's  pure,  and  he's  got  more 
sense,  and  more  wit,  and  more  soul,  and  more  intel 
lect  !  And  if  he  wants  to,  he  is  going  to  be  the 
greatest  writer  that  ever  lived ;  and  he  shall,  too,  for 
all  me.  I  would  rather  slave  for  him,  scrub,  cook, 
take  in  washing,  and  do  plain  sewing,  than  be  Queen 
of  the  Four  Hundred.  The  Four  Hundred  !  What 
do  I  care  for  the  Four  Hundred  ?  That  dream  is 
past,  thank  goodness,  and  it  was  he  that  come  to 
wake  me  from  the  worst  nightmare  /  ever  had.  We 
can  go  abroad — I  know  father  will  let  us — and  you 
can  stay  with  mother ;  or  go  back  to  Wottoma  with 


134  LETTERS    HOME. 

her;  and  we  can  settle  down  in  some  quiet  place, 
like  Rome,  or  London — and  he  can  write  his  head 
off.  My,  but  it'll  be  great ! "  She  jumped  up,  and 
caught  me  round  the  neck,  and  kissed  me;  and  I 
could  hardly  get  away.  "  You  think  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed,  but  I'm  not.  What  is  there  to  be  ashamed 
of  ?  I  shouldn't  be  ashamed,  now,  if  he  didn't  have 
me;  but  he  will.  And  I'll  get  Caroline  Deschenes 
to  come  on,  and  when  I've  got  her  here  I'll  spring 
it  on  her  that  she  is  to  be  one  of  the  bridesmaids, 
and  you've  got  to  be  the  other.  We'll  have  the 
greatest  time!" 

She  smothered  her  face  in  my  neck,  and  ran  out 
of  the  room,  and  left  me  there  not  knowing  what 
to  think.  I  don't  know  yet,  and  I  wish  you  and 
Lizzie  would  take  the  job  off  my  hands.  I  knew 
well  enough  what  I  ought  to  think;  but  when  I  re 
member  how  she  has  always  been  allowed  to  have 
and  do  all  she  pleased,  and  how,  after  all,  she  is^ 
so  generous  and  big-hearted  with  everyone  and  not 
the  least  spoiled,  I  am  not  able  to  think  what  I 
ought.  It  isn't  exactly  usual  for  a  girl  to  talk  out 
her  feelings  so ;  but  if  the  feelings  are  right  in 
themselves  what  harm  is  there  in  talking  them  out  ? 
That  is  what  I  ask  myself,  and  then  I  say  that  if 


MISS  FRANCES   DENNAM   TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    135 

anyone  is  to  blame  it  is  I  for  telling  you  this,  and 
you  for  letting  me,  and  so  we  had  better  be  pretty 
modest. 

Your  affectionate  daughter  and  sister, 

FRANCES. 

For  pity's  sake  don't  let  Lizzie  suppose  I  want 
her  to  take  after  Miss  Ralson !  She  hasn't  got  the 
money,  for  one  thing. 


XXII. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wattoma. 
NEW  YORK,  Jan.  23,  1902. 

My  Dear  Lincoln: 

I  address  you  in  this  serious  way  not  because  I 
have  got  anything  against  you,  but  because  I  have 
got  something  against  myself.  I  am  to  blame,  for 
I  put  myself  in  the  way  of  it  when  I  might  have 
seen  it  coming ;  but  I  can  swear  that  I  meant  to  do 
nothing  to  make  it  come.  If  I  thought  of  it  at  all, 
I  thought  it  would  be  a  bore,  but  I  never  supposed 
it  would  be  a  tragedy.  Of  course,  I  was  all  kinds 
of  an  ass  to  come  here,  but  I  can  bear  myself  wit 
ness  that  I  did  it  from  the  kindest  motive  in  the 
world,  though  it  wasn't  any  the  less  assinine  on  that 
account.  I  had  a  good  deal  better  jumped  at  the 
poor  old  woman  and  swept  her  off  the  earth  when 
she  hinted  at  my  coming. 
136 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  L.   WIBBERT.          137 

Well,  the  grippe  has  begun  to  let  up  on  the  old 
man,  so  as  to  get  a  new  hold  of  the  old  woman  and 
Jenny,  and  if  it  had  chosen  either  little  Essie  or  me, 
it  would  have  been  better  for  us ;  I  could  have  ad 
vised  it  what  to  do,  if  it  had  consulted  me,  but  it 
didn't.  I  have  not  only  been  kindling  fires,  and 
helping  Essie  with  the  housework  generally,  between 
the  times  of  scrapping  with  the  Ralsons  on  the 
ragged  edge  of  the  Four  Hundred,  but  I  have  been 
taking  my  turn  nursing  old  Baysley.  I  don't  know 
what  I  shall  do  now,  with  Jenny  and  her  mother 
sick,  except  cook  all  the  meals  and  lend  Essie  a  hand 
with  the  wash ;  she  isn't  much  of  a  cook,  or  laundress 
either.  I  suppose  it  reads  comically,  but  it  doesn't 
live  so,  and  if  you  will  add  the  fact  that  I  have  had 
to  intercede  personally  with  Mr.  Ralson  for  old  Bays- 
ley,  you  will  have  the  touch  of  pathos  that  is  always 
supposed  to  give  the  humorous  such  fine  relief. 

There  has  been  pathos  enough  in  it,  ever  since  I 
knew  that  the  old  man  here  was  in  the  employment 
of  the  Cheese  and  Churn  Trust,  and  that  he  had 
found  out  I  was  a  friend  of  the  Ralsons,  and  believed 
that  if  I  wanted  to  I  could  do  something  in  the  way 
of  promotions  and  appropriations.  I  don't  say  that 
I  have  seen  this  in  either  of  the  girls,  or  at  least  not 


138  LETTERS    HOME. 

in  Essie,  but  I've  divined  it  in  the  old  people ;  they 
couldn't  have  been  more  deferential  if  I  had  been 
Ralson  in  person.  When  Baysley  began  to  get  over 
the  grippe  so  far  as  to  be  more  anxious  about  living 
than  dying,  he  couldn't  keep  himself  from  asking  me 
to  "  use  my  influence. "  Imagine  what  a  dose  that 
was! 

The  Ralsons  had  brought  me  home  here  in  their 
automobile  several  times,  but  I  hadn't  found  it  es 
sential  to  tell  them  who  my  landlord  was,  and  now  I 
would  have  to  come  out  with  it,  when  it  would  have 
the  effect  of  something  I  had  been  hiding.  Baysley 
was  afraid  of  losing  his  job,  and  of  course  I  couldn't 
say  no ;  I  put  the  case  to  Mr.  Ralson,  last  night,  in 
the  presence  of  America,  and  I  had  him  whipped  as 
badly  as  I  was.  We  were  at  the  play,  and  it  was 
between  the  acts  of  Mrs.  Pat  Campbell's  "  Second 
Mrs.  Tanqueray, "  when  we  were  all  rather  broken  up. 

The  old  gentleman  had  forgotten  about  Baysley, 
whom  he  had  sent  on  here  I  guess  because  he  was 
not  much  use  anywhere  else,  and  I  don't  believe  he 
would  have  hesitated  even  if  he  had  been  alone  with 
me.  But  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  America  from 
leaving  the  play  and  driving  right  up  here  with  a 
hamper  full  of  Christmas  goods,  like  the  good  angels 


WALLACE  AKDITH  TO  A.  L.  WIBBERT.       139 

in  those  old  Dickens  stories.  She  got  the  facts  of 
the  family  sickness  out  of  me  in  about  a  minute,  and 
when  she  found  that  the  girls  were  not  pretty,  to 
speak  of,  and  the  youngest  was  doing  the  work  her 
self  (I  suppressed  my  share)  she  wanted  to  fill  the  flat 
with  trained  nurses  and  professed  cooks.  After  the 
play  was  over,  and  they  brought  me  here  her  father 
had  to  use  force  to  keep  her  from  coming  up-stairs 
with  me  to  see  how  they  were  getting  along ;  and 
nothing  would  do  but  to  let  her  come  here  this 
morning.  I  don't  know  how  early  she  will  come,  but 
perhaps  Nature  may  assist  Art,  and  she  will  oversleep 
herself,  though  I  am  taking  no  chances,  and  am  writ 
ing  this  letter  between  kindling  the  fire  in  the  kitchen 
and  calling  the  miserable  Essie  to  get  breakfast. 

"  And  is  that  all  ? "  I  fancy  you  asking.  I  wish  it 
were! 

When  I  came  home  last  night,  the  old  man  was 
waiting  up  along  with  the  little  girl,  and  he  was  so 
anxious  that  even  when  I  shouted  at  him,  "  It's  all 
right,  Mr.  Baysley, "  he  couldn't  take  it  in.  Essie 
had  to  say  it  over  to  him,  and  then  he  flopped  into  a 
chair,  and  cried  for  relief,  and  she  cried,  too.  He  got 
himself  together  to  thank  me,  before  she  helped  him 
off  to  bed,  and  when  she  had  told  her  mother  and 


140  LETTERS     HOME. 

sister  the  good  news,  she  came  back  to  me,  to  ask  if 
she  could  get  me  a  cup  of  tea,  or  something.  Her 
face  was  so  twisted  with  crying  that  she  could  hardly 
get  the  words  out,  and  her  head  went  down,  down,  as 
if  I  were  some  sort  of  deity,  too  great  and  good  to 
look  at. 

What  would  you  have  done,  Line  ?  I  will  tell  you 
what  /  did,  and  if  you  will  come  on  here  and  kick 
me,  I  will  pay  your  fare  both  ways,  including  sleepers 
and  diners.  I  took  the  little  fool  into  my  arms,  and 
let  her  have  her  cry  out  on  my  shoulder,  and  I  took 
my  cry  out  on  the  top  of  her  yellow  head.  We  did 
not  pass  a  word,  but  by  and  by  she  lifted  up  her  face 
and  looked  into  mine,  as  much  as  to  say  that  we  un 
derstood  each  other,  and  pulled  herself  up  and  kissed 
me,  and  then  ran  out  of  the  room  and  left  me  to  my 
thoughts,  as  they  used  to  do  in  the  novels. 

The  thoughts  have  gone  on  ever  since,  without  any 
dreams  to  interrupt.  They  are  to  the  effect  that  I 
am  the  prize  idiot  of  the  universe,  and  that  if  I  could 
be  wiped  out  of  existence  the  average  of  common- 
sense  would  be  so  incalculably  increased  that  this 
world  would  be  a  realm  of  supernal  wisdom.  If  I  am 
an  honest  man,  if  I  am  any  sort  of  half-way  decent 
scoundrel,  I  am  now  bound  to  this  girl,  without  being 


WALLACE    AEJDITH   TO    A.    L.    WIBBERT.       14:1 

the  least  in  love  with  her,  and  I  have  deceived  her 
without  meaning  her  anything  but  truth.  I  do  like 
her,  Line ;  I  respect  her  ;  I  would  rather  kill  myself 
than  do  her  harm,  and  here  I  have  done  her  the  dead 
liest  kind  of  harm.  Unless  all  the  signs  fail,  I  have 
either  spoiled  her  peace  or  mine,  forever.  Well,  you 
know  me  well  enough  to  know  that  it  won't  be  her 
peace  that  will  suffer. 

Yours, 

W.  A. 


XXIII. 
From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  24,  1902. 
My  dear  Lincoln : 

Your  letter  has  crossed  mine,  or  else  you  could 
understand  how  very  little  your  news  can  concern  me 
now.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  had  ceased  to  be  inter 
ested  in  the  heart  affairs,  or  no-heart  affairs,  of  a 
Certain  Person  some  time  ago,  and  now  it  matters  no 
more  to  me  that  she  is  disengaged  than  that  she  was 
engaged.  The  only  fact  of  that  kind  which  makes 
any  appeal  to  me  is  my  own  engagement,  which 
there  seems  no  doubt  about,  though  it  is  still  tacit. 
It  is  accepted  by  the  whole  Baysley  family,  of  which 
I  seem  to  be  the  idol.  The  old  man  is  the  only  one 
well  enough  to  show  me  an  active  adoration,  but  he  is 
sufficient,  and  I  am  not  praying  for  the  rapid  conval 
escence  of  Jenny  and  her  mother.  I  suppose  they 
142 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO    A.    L.    WIBBEET.         143 

will  get  well,  and  then  there  will  have  to  be  some 
thing  explicit  about  Essie. 

Line,  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  When  that  child 
comes  up  to  me,  and  expects  me  to  do  the  lover-like 
thing,  I  have  to  do  it,  because  I  can't  bear  to 
disappoint  her;  but  when  she  wants  me  to  say  the 
lover-like  thing,  oh  then !  It's  comparatively  easy  to 
lie  with  my  lips,  but  when  it  comes  to  lying  with  my 
tongue,  that  is  so  far  beyond  the  limit,  that  I  don't 
know  where  I  am.  Upon  my  word  and  honor — 
nonor  1 — I  don't  know  what  I'm  saying. 

If  you  haven't  guessed  anything  yet,  I  will  let  you 
guess  now  how  much  I  am  comforted  in  getting  a 
couple  of  notes  a  day  from  America,  inquiring  about 
the  Baysleys,  and  pleading,  threatening,  to  come  up 
here  and  look  after  them  herself,  if  I  don't  come 
down  and  report.  She  writes  me  what  you  have 
written  about  a  Certain  Person,  and  says  she  is  com 
ing  on  to  visit  her  in  March.  She  adds  to  the  gayety 
of  nations,  as  far  as  I  can  share  it,  by  joking  me 
about  her,  and  promising  to  do  everything  for  me 
with  her  ! 

Best  revise  that  obituary  of  mine  which  you  are 
keeping  in  the  A  box,  and  add  that  the  subject  of  the 
notice  was  a  youth  of  so  much  promise  that  he 


144  LETTERS     HOME. 

couldn't  have  done  half  he  said  he  would  if  he  had 
lived  to  be  ninety. 

Yours   ever, 

W.  A. 

You  can  imagine  how  nice  all  this  is,  coming  on 
top  of  the  chance  that  Gasman  has  given  me  in  The 
Signal.  "  Impressions  of  a  Provincial "  !  If  I  could 
make  them  the  Confessions,  and  make  them  honest,  I 
should  have  fame  and  fortune  in  my  hand,  or  infamy 
and  misfortune,  I  don't  care  which. 


XXIV. 

From  MR.  OTIS  BINNING  to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 

Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  January  ££,   1902. 
My  dear  Margaret; 

I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are  so  much,  better,  but  hav 
ing  formed  the  habit  of  writing  to  you,  I  do  not 
know  that  I  can  quite  give  it  up,  now,  even  in  the 
presence  of  your  convalescence.  All  that  I  can  con 
sent  to  do  is  to  make  my  letters  shorter,  and  confine 
them  more  to  personal  interests,  leaving  out  those 
studies  of  New  York  with  which  I  used  to  pad  them. 
My  opportunities,  civic  and  social,  continue  much  the 
same,  though  I  have  indulged  rather  more  than  usual 
in  the  theatre,  that  refuge  of  the  society  outcast  in 
New  York,  and  I  am  able  to  advise  you  to  have  your 
self  carried  to  see  Mrs.  Pat  Campbell  in  "  The  Second 
Mrs.  Tanqueray,  "  when  she  brings  the  play  to  Boston. 

I   went  to  see  the  piece  alone,  having  declined  a 
145 


146  LETTERS    HOME. 

seat  in  the  box  of  my  Cheese  and  Churn  Trust  mag 
nate  ;  for  knowing  the  play  as  I  did  I  hardly  saw  how 
I  could  talk  it  over  between  the  acts  with  his 
blooming  daughter.  Women  talk  almost  anything 
with  men  nowadays,  but  I  do  not  think  a  man  of  my 
epoch  ought  to  talk  some  things  over  with  a  girl  of 
Miss  Ralson's.  Heaven  knows  how  she  and  her 
young  man  from  Iowa  managed  the  topics  suggested 
by  the  play,  but  perhaps  they  talked  only  of  them 
selves — innocent  topics  enough.  I  saw  her  in  one  of 
the  chief  seats  at  the  spectacle  :  a  box,  where  she 
showed  her  fine  lengths  sidewise  to  the  house,  and 
talked  up  into  the  young  man's  face,  with  a  pictur 
esque  slant  of  her  hat.  Her  father  occupied  another 
chief  seat,  and  the  young  man  stood  behind  her,  and 
beside  him  darkled  the  quaint  girl  I  have  described 
to  you  as  her  secretary  and  her  mother's  companion : 
I  should  like  to  hear  her  shrewd  comments,  but  they 
are  the  last  thing  one  is  likely  to  hear,  about  Mrs. 
Tanqueray. 

It  was  a  most  amusingly  New  Yorkish  crowd  that 
filled  the  theatre,  dressing  pretty  much  the  same  for 
the  boxes  and  the  orchestra  places  and  balconies,  and 
putting  on  all  possible  correctness  in  the  men,  and 
all  fetching  hattiness  and  cloakiness  in  the  women. 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING.     147 

I  recognized  some  personalities  of  social  validity,  but 
the  rest  I  took  for  hotel  sojourners,  or  flat-dwellers 
of  the  better  sort,  or  people  in  successful  business, 
whose  supreme  society  life  the  theatre  party 
constitutes,  shading  into  presences  of  harmless  Bohe- 
mianism — artistic  looking  art-student  girls,  in  large 
enough  companies  to  dispense  with  chaperonage.  I 
wondered  how  deep  some  of  the  awful  implications 
of  the  play  went  with  those  children ;  but  apparently 
the  theatre  is  only  for  the  surfaces  of  souls.  I  fancy 
most  of  these  amusing  New  Yorkers  were  there  for 
Mrs.  Pat's  acting,  and  not  for  the  play  at  all,  except 
as  it  gave  scope  to  her  art  and  her  beauty,  and  that  it 
was  she  they  talked  about  between  the  acts.  Not 
all,  however.  A  German  American  lady  behind  me 
talked  incessantly  neighborhood  gossip  of  the  feeblest 
and  flattest  description,  passing  insensibly  from  Ger 
man  into  English,  and  from  English  into  German 
again,  without  passing  the  shores  of  her  small  beer. 
I  occupied  myself  a  good  deal  with  the  effect  of  the 
play  in  my  neighbors,  without  definite  conclusions. 
I  was  especially  interested  in  a  tall,  gaunt  figure  of 
a  man  two  vacant  seats  away,  who  had  Down  East 
written  all  over  his  fisherman's  face  and  his  clothing- 
store  best ;  and  I  decided  that  he  had  got  there  by 


148  LETTERS     HOME. 

mistake.  This  proved  really  to  be  the  case,  for  when 
I  made  bold  to  speak  to  him,  as  I  followed  him  oat 
at  the  end,  and  to  ask  him  how  he  liked  Mrs.  Pat,  he 
said  that  he  liked  her  well  enough,  but  had  thought 
it  was  going  to  be  some  sort  of  burlesque  show,  with 
dancing.  Then  I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the 
play ;  and  he  confessed  that  he  did  not  know  whether 
he  had  rightly  taken  it  in.  He  could  not  understand 
what  it  was  that  made  people  shy  of  that  Paula,  or 
what  there  was  in  her  old  acquaintance  with  her  step 
daughter's  fellow  to  make  her  husband  break  off  the 
match,  and  Paula  go  and  kill  herself;  but  he  pre 
sumed  it  was  all  right. 

I  have  not  seen  my  pretty  boy  from  Iowa  since 
that  night,  though  I  have  been  rather  diligent  in 
calling  on  the  daughter  of  the  Cheese  and  Churn 
Trust.  He  has  not  been  at  the  Walhondia  for  several 
days,  as  I  was  given  to  understand,  rather  airily, 
there,  yesterday,  with  an  effect  of  dismissal  for  the 
subject  as  of  great  indifference.  I  hope  no  trouble  is 
brewing,  and  yet,  just  for  the  peculiar  interest  of  the 
fact,  I  should  rather  like  to  think  he  was  triffling 
with  fortune.  He  has  an  enemy,  I  fancy  in  the 
secretary-companion  of  Miss  Ralson.  Not  from  any 
thing  she  said,  but  from  the  nothing  she  looked, 


MR.  OTIS  BININNG  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING,    149 

when  I  mentioned  him.  She  is  my  enemy,  too,  I 
believe,  and  I  am  rather  sorry  for  that,  for  in  her 
queer,  angular  way,  she  is  charming,  with  a  whimsical 
tremor  round  her  prim  mouth,  and  in  her  shy  eyes. 
But  I  am  proud  to  say  that  the  daughter  of  the  Trust 
seems  to  like  me,  and  to  be  willing  to  make  what  she 
can  of  me  in  the  absence  of  the  pretty  boy.  Shall  I 
confess  that  I  amuse  myself  more  in  her  gorgeous 
hotel  parlor,  where  no  one  ever  comes  that  any  one 
knows,  than  in  the  hospitalities  of  the  Van  der  Doeses 
and  their  friends  ?  I  am  afraid  I  had  always  a  vulgar 
streak.  But  do  not  disown 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

OTIS. 


XXV. 

From  ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY  to  REV.  WILLIAM  BAYSLEY, 
Timber  Creek. 

NEW  YORK,  January  25,  1902. 
Dr.  Bro.  Wm. : 

I'm  thankful  to  say  for  wife  and  I  that  we  are 
about  well  again.  She  still  keeps  her  room,  but  is 
out  of  bed,  and  daughter  Jenny  is  much  the  same, 
though  not  quite  so  far  along  as  mother.  Essie  has 
not  been  sick  at  all,  and  we  some  hope  that  she  will 
escape,  though  we  don't  want  to  whistle  till  we  are 
out  of  the  woods.  Will  say  right  here  that  there 
never  was  a  better  child ;  and  her  and  young  Ardith 
have  about  fixed  it  up  together,  by  the  signs.  He  has 
been  a  true  friend  from  first  to  last,  helping  Ess  do 
the  work  like  a  good  fellow  when  the  rest  of  us  was 
down  sick,  and  using  his  influence  with  old  Ralson  to 
keep  me  from  being  thrown  out  when  I  could  not  get 
down  town  to  look  after  things.  I  got  a  letter  from 
150 


ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY  TO  REV.  WILLIAM  BAYSLEY.  151 

the  company  this  morning  saying  my  salary  was  put 
up  to  the  $3000  notch;  so  I  guess  I  have  been  giving 
satisfaction  right  along.  I  did  expect  to  send  you  a 
postal  order  for  that  loan,  but  there  have  been  some 
extra  expenses,  and  I  do  not  believe  I  can  get  round 
to  it  till  next  pay  day. 

Neither  Ess  or  him  has  said  anything  yet  to  me, 
but  from  what  she  told  her  mother  I  guess  it's  a  sure 
thing ;  and  he's  as  nice  a  young  fellow  as  ever  stepped, 
and  talented.  Although  he  has  kept  mum  about  it,  I 
guess  he  has  been  pretty  thick  with  the  Ralsons. 
Went  into  regular  Four  Hundred  circles  with  them, 
and  them  glad  to  have  him.  He  is  not  one  to  brag, 
and  so  far  as  mother  can  make  out,  he  does  not  say 
anything  to  Ess  about  it  either.  But  if  he  was  any 
ways  taken  up  in  that  direction  before,  he  sticks  close 
enough  here  now.  So  it  is  satisfactory  all  round. 

Hope  you  are  getting  the  good  out  of  the  old  place, 
and  glad  you  can  use  the  horse,  riding  round.  They 
all  join  me  in  regards. 

Your  affec.  bro., 

ABNER. 


XXVI. 
From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  January  27,  1902. 

Well,  my  dear  Line,  the  expected  has  happened. 
But  where  shall  I  begin  to  tell  you  how  ? 

It  is  more  than  a  week  since  I  called  on  America, 
and  during  that  time  I  have  refused  three  or  four  in 
vitations  from  her  to  breakfast  and  lunch  and  dinner, 
and  I  don't  know  what  else,  each  growing  a  little 
more  formal,  and  a  little  less  like  the  good  terms  we 
used  to  be  on.  All  this  while  I  had  left  her  to  her 
own  conjectures  about  my  real  motives  in  staying 
away,  for  how  could  I  tell  her  what  they  were  ?  If  I 
could  not  understand  them,  knowing  the  party  as  I 
do,  how  could  she  possibly  believe  in  them  ?  But  it 
is  dangerous  to  leave  a  girl  to  her  conjectures,  espe 
cially  a  girl  who  likes  to  do  her  thinking  after  she 
has  done  her  acting,  as  most  girls  do. 
152 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO     A.    L.    WIBBEBT,        153 

What  America  conjectured,  as  nearly  as  I  can  make 
it  out,  was  that  not  only  all  the  Baysleys  were  at  the 
point  of  death,  but  that  I  was  not  very  well  myself. 
The  leap  from  this  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  the 
part  of  a  friend  to  come  and  see  what  the  facts  were, 
was  not  beyond  her  powers,  and  this  morning  she 
came.  Essie  answered  the  ring  from  above  by  pull 
ing  the  latch  of  the  outside  door,  and  then  she  had 
a  call  from  the  invalids,  some  of  them,  and  she  ran 
in  where  I  was  writing  the  "  Impressions  of  a  Pro 
vincial,  "  and  asked  if  I  would  stand  guard  at  the 
door  of  the  apartment,  and  let  in  whoever  was  com 
ing  up. 

I  knew — long  before  America  arrived  with  her 
secretary.  She  began  to  fill  the  hallway  and  stair 
case  with  the  rich  resonance  of  her  laugh,  and  the 
proud  frou-frou  of  her  skirts  against  the  blood-red 
tapestry  carpet,  from  the  moment  she  came  in,  while 
I  stood  transfixed  at  the  door.  She  panted,  and  then 
laughed  at  herself  for  panting,  and  whispered  to  the 
girl  with  her,  and  then  spoke  aloud,  and  stopped,  and 
came  on.  Suddenly  she  stood  there  on  the  platform 
before  the  Baysley  portal,  with  her  skirt  in  her  hand, 
and  the  flare  from  the  skylight  full  in  her  face,  staring 
at  me  with  a  kind  of  challenge.  "  Oh !  "  she  said, 


154  LETTERS     HOME. 

and  the  other  girl  slipped  behind  her.  It  was  as  if 
she  had  confronted  my  ghost,  and  I  wish  she  had.  I 
could  see  that  somehow  she  was  not  prepared  for  my 
being  there,  though  why,  I  could  not  understand  then, 
even  if  I  understand  now.  She  turned  red  and  then 
she  turned  white,  but  she  did  not  say  anything  more ; 
she  only  leaned  against  the  wall,  and  waited  for  me. 
I  asked  her  if  she  would  not  come  in,  and  she  said 
"  Thank  you, "  in  a  kind  of  bewilderment,  and  she 
swept  in,  and  the  other  girl  eddied  silently  in  after 
her.  I  showed  them  the  way  into  the  horrible  little 
parlor,  with  the  bed-alcove  off  it,  and  got  them  seated, 
somehow,  and  then  she  found  presence  of  mind 
enough  to  say,  "  I  hope  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baysley  are 
better.  "  I  said  they  were  all  better,  and  Mr.  Bays- 
ley  was  so  well  as  to  have  gone  down  to  the  office. 
I  volunteered  that  Miss  Essie  Baysley  would  be  with 
us  in  a  moment,  and  the  conversation  languished,  till 
America  remarked  with  the  aimlessness  of  people  who 
don't  know  what  they  are  saying  or  saying  they  don't 
know  what,  "  I  didn't  understand  that  you  were  living 
with  them,  before. "  I  answered  that  I  thought  I 
had  mentioned  it,  and  I  could  see  that  America  sus 
pected  I  was  lying,  arid  that  the  secretary  was  mak 
ing  a  tacit  note  of  my  mendacity.  In  fact,  throughout 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO     A.    L.    WIBBERT.       155 

this  glad  interview,  the  secretary  had  the  effect  of 
accumulating  evidence  against  me,  I  don't  know  why, 
and  when  Essie  came  in,  and  I  tried  to  talk  to  her 
while  America  engaged  Essie,  I  felt  as  if  she  were 
warning  me  that  anything  I  said  would  be  used 
against  me.  She  has  disliked  me  from  the  first,  ap 
parently,  and  it  hasn't  been  any  better  for  me  because 
I  know  she  has  a  conscience  against  disliking  me 
without  reason. 

If  I  had  been  trying  to  conceal  anything,  and  cer 
tainly  I  felt  as  if  I  were,  Essie  gave  everything  away 
when  she  came  in  looking  flurried,  and  then  fright 
ened,  at  the  sight  of  my  visitors,  if  they  were  mine. 
In  the  brief  time  of  our  intensified  domesticity  she 
has  come  to  depend  upon  me  for  pretty  much  every 
thing  but  breathing,  and  now  she  rubbed  kitten-like 
up  against  me,  with  her  eyes  first  on  the  magnificent 
America,  and  then  on  me,  but  mostly  on  me.  I  was 
as  miserable  as  a  guilty  wretch  can  be,  and  be  con 
scious  of  his  innocence,  but  my  confounded  mind 
kept  taking  note  of  the  situation,  and  in  a  hideous 
way  rejoicing  in  it  as  material.  I  made  out  to  intro 
duce  Essie  to  the  company,  and  to  detach  her  towards 
America,  while  I  took  the  secretary  off  to  the  window, 
and  showed  her  the  view  of  the  other  side  of  the 


156  LETTERS    HOME. 

street,  with  the  rock  in  the  Park  that  you  can  get  a 
glimpse  of  if  you  don't  mind  a  crick  in  your  neck. 
The  secretary  treated  me  with  merited  severity,  and 
gave  evidence  for  the  prosecution,  and  charged  the 
jury,  and  brought  in  a  verdict  of  puellicide  in  the  first 
degree,  and  sentenced  me,  and  had  me  in  the  electric 
chair,  while  I  saw  through  the  back  of  my  head,  all 
the  time,  America  killing  Essie  with  kindness,  and 
heard  her  asking  her  with  adamantine  benevolence  all 
about  the  family  sickness,  and  trying  to  listen,  if  she 
died  on  the  spot  for  it,  to  Essie's  terrified  answers. 
I  was  actually  aware  of  her  holding  the  girl's  hands, 
and  finding  them  as  cold  as  ice.  "  Well,  you  must 
take  care  not  to  get  the  grippe  yourself,  "  she  said, 
and  just  then  the  secretary  turned  on  the  current,  and 
I  knew  no  more. 

I  seemed  to  come  to  life  in  another  world,  where 
America  and  the  secretary  were  talking  to  Essie,  and 
not  minding  me  any  more  than  if  I  were  an  invisible 
presence.  America  was  saying  that  she  had  ventured 
to  bring  a  few  little  things  to  tempt  a  sick  appetite, 
and  that  if  Essie  would  let  her  she  would  send  them 
up  by  the  man ;  I  noted  how  she  forebore  to  give 
Essie  the  coup  de  grace  by  not  saying  footman.  Essie 
went  out  to  the  top  of  the  landing  with  them,  and 


WALLACE    ARDITH     TO    A.    L.    WIBBERT.       157 

watched  them  down  the  stairs,  and  then  she  came 
back  and  looked  at  me.  It  could  not  have  lasted  a 
long  time,  but  it  took  a  small  eternity  to  live  through 
it,  and  when  it  ended  in  a  cloud-burst  of  tears  that 
seemed  to  sweep  her  out  of  the  room,  Methusaleh 
was  no  match  for  me  in  age.  I  don't  know  why  I 
waited  for  the  Ralson's  James  to  come  up  with  the 
hamper  America  had  sent;  perhaps  I  had  nothing 
else  to  do.  I  had  always  been  rather  friendly  with 
James,  but  this  time  I  met  him  with  a  face  as  chill  as 
his  own  imported  cheerlessness,  and  I  treated  him 
not  like  a  man,  as  I  had  made  a  point  of  doing  before, 
but  like  a  footman.  He  did  not  seem  to  notice. 
Now  I  am  writing  to  you,  and  that  is  all  I  know. 
Your  distracted 

W.  A. 


XXVII. 

From  Miss  RALSON    to   Miss   DESCHENES,  Wottoma. 

Jan.  27 ,  Evening. 
Dear  Caroline: 

I  can't  remember  just  what  I  wrote,  but  if  you 
understood  that  I  did  not  want  you  to  come,  you 
must  have  been  reading  between  the  lines.  I  do  want 
you.  Come  whenever  you  like,  and  as  often  and  as 
long ;  you  couldn't  come  too  soon,  or  too  much,  for 
me.  I  really  and  truly  want  you,  and  that's  no  lie. 

I  wish  I  could  be  decided  about  Mr.  Ardith.  But 
you  had  better  come  on  and  see  for  yourself.  He  is 
living  with  some  people  from  Timber  Creek,  up  on 
the  West  side ;  I  heard  that  they  were  all  down  with 
the  grippe,  and  I  went  up  to  see  about  them  this 
morning ;  the  father  is  in  the  office  of  the  Trust  here, 
and  I  felt  rather  obliged  to.  I  don't  think  they  were 
in  much  need  of  me,  especially  one  of  the  daughters. 
But  I  may  have  been  deceived  by  appearances;  you 
158 


MISS  RALSON  TO  MISS  DESCILENES.  159 

might  ask  Mr.  Ardith  after  you  got  here ;  I  will  have 
him  to  dinner. 

I  have  a  bad  headache,  and  I  hardly  know  what  I 
am  writing.  Miss  Dennam,  mother's  companion  and 
my  secretary,  would  know  if  she  was  here,  but  she 
has  gone  home  for  the  night;  so  you  must  try  to 
make  it  out  for  yourself.  But  if  you  make  out  that  I 
don't  want  you,  you  will  have  to  settle  with  me  after 
you  get  here. 

Devotedly  yours, 

AMERICA. 


XXVIII. 

From  FRANCES  DENNAM  to  MRS.  DENNAM,  Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  27,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

Every  now  and  then  I  have  felt  awfully  for  the  way 
I  have  written  you  about  Mr.  Ardith :  firstly  because 
he  is  none  of  my  business,  and  secondly  because  I 
really  care  nothing  about  him,  and  thirdly  because 
I  don't  want  to  wrong  him.  You  know  I  wouldn't 
hurt  a  fly,  or  even  a  spider  that  was  eating  a  fly. 
Well,  I  don't  know  now  whether  I  have  been  wrong 
ing  him,  but  if  I  lay  the  facts  fully  before  you  maybe 
I  shall  find  out.  I  can't  very  well  face  them  till  I 
get  them  down  on  paper,  can  I  ? 

It  seems   sort  of    eavesdropping,  but  I  know  that 
the  drops  will  go  no  farther  with  you  and  Lizzie,  and 
so  I  will  keep  on,  because  it  is  so  very  interesting,  if 
160 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     161 

for  no  other  reason.  The  first  time  I  saw  him  and 
Miss  Ralson  together,  I  could  see  that  she  was  per 
fectly  gone  on  him,  as  you  say  at  Lake  Ridge,  and  the 
only  thing  that  I  really  liked  in  him  was  his  not  being 
able  to  see  it.  That  was  certainly  in  the  wretch's 
favor ;  but  whether  his  blindness  was  a  remnant  of 
the  heartbreak  (don't  mind  the  mixture  of  metaphors, 
mother ! )  that  he  came  on  here  from  Wottoma  with,  I 
was  not  sure.  They  say  that  the  human  male  when 
heartbroken  is  easily  the  prey  of  the  first  human  fe 
male  that  makes  up  to  him ;  but  in  Mr.  Ardith's  case 
the  male  didn't  see  it.  I  don't  believe,  though,  the 
female  in  Miss  Ralson's  case  was  fully  aware  of  it,  as 
I  told  you  in  my  last  letter. 

I  suppose  I  have  heard  more  about  Mr.  Ardith  and 
his  love  affair  with  a  Miss  Deschenes,  out  in  Wottoma, 
than  would  fill  a  volume ;  and  from  what  I  could  learn, 
she  behaved  as  badly  to  him  as  I  could  have  wished 
in  my  most  venomous  moods.  She  led  him  on  by 
every  art  known  to  her  sex,  and  then  tossed  him,  as 
Miss  Ralson  said,  or  gave  him  the  grand  bounce,  as 
she  explained.  She  said  Miss  Deschenes  was  very 
beautiful  in  a  dark,  thin,  slight  way,  and  knew  how  to 
dress,  far  beyond  the  dreams  of  Wottoma ;  she  was 
very  intellectual,  too  ;  and  nobody  could  understand 


162  LETTERS     HOME. 

why  she  turned  Mr.  Ardith  down  when  it  came  to  the 
point.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  she  did  not  turn 
him  down  at  once.  They  were  engaged  for  a  while, 
and  then  an  able  lawyer,  well  along  in  his  thirties,  and 
ripe  for  Congress,  appeared  on  the  scene.  This  was 
when  the  tossing,  and  bouncing,  and  turning  down 
took  place.  In  Wattoma  it  was  considered  very 
heartless,  and  nobody  could  account  for  it,  but  when 
I  met  Mr.  Ardith,  I  thought  I  saw  what  she  meant. 

The  redeeming  feature  in  his  case  all  along  has 
been  his  not  knowing  that  Miss  Ralson  was  throwing 
herself  at  him.  He  thought,  if  he  thought  anything, 
that  she  was  binding  up  his  wounds,  and  perhaps  she 
was,  though  it  looked  more  like  that  trapeze  act  to 
the  outsider.  I  don't  know  whether  the  rest  of  the 
family  noticed  it  or  not ;  I  rather  think  not.  Mrs. 
Ralson  has  seldom  seen  them  together  that  I  know 
of,  and  Mr.  Ralson's  great  object  seems  to  have  been 
to  see  them  together  as  much  as  possible,  or  at  least 
to  shirk  going  to  places  with  America  and  sending 
Mr.  Ardith  instead.  Where  a  third  person  was  ab 
solutely  demanded  by  New  York  propriety,  I  have 
done  duty,  and  Mr.  Ralson  has  escaped  everything 
but  opera  and  theatre  for  the  last  month.  Seven  or 
eight  nights  ago  they  were  at  the  theatre  together, 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.      163 

and  when  it  was  over,  they  took  Mr.  Ardith  up  to  his 
lodgings,  as  usual ;  and  they  found  out  that  he  was 
living  with  some  people  from  the  little  town  in  Iowa 
where  he  was  born,  and  that  they  were  mostly  down 
with  the  grippe.  She  thinks  he  acted  very  strangely 
that  night,  because  he  wouldn't  let  her  think  of  com 
ing  to  see  them,  or  sending  anything;  and  as  the 
days  have  gone  by  he  has  acted  still  more  strangely. 
He  has  not  come  near  the  Walhondia,  and  as  for 
dropping  in  for  lunch,  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  doing,  he  would  not  come  when  he  was  asked.  I 
must  say  Miss  Ralson  gave  him  more  chances  of  re 
fusing  than  I  should  have  done,  and  his  excuses  were 
shamefully  shallow.  Of  course  I  could  not  say  that 
to  her ;  and  I  have  done  more  passive  fibbing  than  I 
should  have  liked  to  do  in  the  best  cause,  let  alone 
one  like  this.  Things  went  on,  Miss  Ralson  getting 
more  and  more  anxious,  and  vibrating  between  re 
nouncing  him  forever,  and  going  to  fetch  him  by 
main  force.  She  decided  at  last  that  he  was  down 
with  the  grippe  himself,  and  this  morning  his  condi 
tion  was  so  bad,  (or  hers,)  that  she  could  not  stand  it 
any  longer.  She  sent  out  for  a  lot  of  things  at  a 
place  where  they  keep  delicacies  for  the  sick,  and  took 
me  in  her  automobile  with  her  to  succor  the  Baysley 


164  LETTEKS  HOME. 

family,  and  to  see  what  the  matter  with  Mr.  Ardith 
really  was.  She  did  not  say  that,  of  course,  but  went 
entirely  in  the  character  of  an  angel  of  mercy. 

I  do  not  know  whether  she  felt  like  one  when  she 
got  there,  and  found  Mr.  Ardith  perfectly  well ;  but 
I  know  how  /  should  have  felt  in  her  place,  when  the 
youngest  of  the  Baysley  sisters,  and  the  only  one  on 
foot,  came  in  and  went  up  to  him,  and  sort  of  took 
refuge  from  her  awe  of  America  with  him.  The  sit 
uation  was  quite  unmistakable,  but  I  must  say  that 
Miss  Ralson  ignored  it  magnificently  ;  and  I  must  say, 
though  I  hate  to,  that  he  did  not  quail  either,  though 
he  looked  like  death.  He  left  them  together  and 
talked  with  me  till  Miss  Ralson  was  ready  to  go,  and 
then  he  did  what  was  polite,  and  we  got  away  some 
how.  But  there  was  no  urging  him  to  come  down  for 
lunch,  or  dinner,  or  breakfast,  and  there  was  no  men 
tion  of  him  all  the  way  home,  except  once.  She  looked 
out  of  the  window  most  of  the  time,  and  I  wonder 
what  people  could  have  thought  of  her,  for  when  she 
turned  to  me,  her  eyes  were  simply  raining  tears.  I 
do  not  believe  she  knew  it,  or  was  aware  of  the  unnat 
ural  voice  in  which  she  asked  me,  "Do  you  think 
they  are  engaged?" 

Mother,  if  we  were  not  so  poor,  I  would  have  been 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.      165 

willing  to  give  any  money  not  to  have  had  to  answer, 
and  as  it  is  I  would  have  given  all  Mr.  Ralson's 
money.  But  I  had  to  do  it.  I  had  to  say,  "  It 
seemed  to  look  like  it,  "  and  then  she  turned  her  face 
away,  and  did  not  speak  again.  I  don't  believe  she 
was  mortified  at  all  thinking  of  how  she  had  given 
herself  away  about  Mr.  Ardith  the  other  day,  and 
bragged  that  she  could  have  him  when  she  wanted. 
The  hurt  was  something  that  went  deeper  than  her 
pride,  though  it  came  out  through  that  later;  now  it 
was  pure  heartbreak.  I  have  scarcely  seen  her,  this 
afternoon.  She  had  her  luncheon  taken  to  her  room, 
and  I  had  mine  with  her  mother.  About  four 
o'clock  she  came  in  to  say  that  if  I  would  like  to 
go  home,  then,  she  would  stay  with  Mrs.  Ralson, 
and  I  was  glad  to  get  away ;  but  before  I  could 
manage  I  had  to  hear  her  mother  afflicting  her  with 
conjectures  and  questions.  She  usually  does  not 
notice,  but  she  began  at  once  to  ask  Miss  Ralson 
whether  Mr.  Ardith  was  sick,  and  if  that  was  the 
reason  why  he  had  not  been  there  for  so  long. 
Her  daughter  fought  her  off  as  well  as  she  could, 
and  told  her  that  Mr.  Ardith  had  been  kept  by  the 
sickness  of  the  family  he  was  staying  with;  that 
he  had  been  helping  take  care  of  them.  Her  mother 


166  LETTERS    HOME. 

said,  "  Well,  I  always  did  say  he  was  the  best-hearted 
gentleman  I  ever  saw. " 

Now,  what  do  you  think,  mother  ?  For  I  confess 
I  don't  know  what  to  think.  Of  course  if  he  is  in 
love  with  that  girl,  he  has  a  right  to  be  engaged  to 
her,  but  if  he  has  been  in  love  with  her  all  along, 
I  don't  think  it  was  nice  in  him  to  come  here  so 
much.  It  is  to  his  credit  that  he  prefers  a  poor 
girl,  if  he  really  likes  her  the  best,  to  a  rich  girl, 
but  I  do  not  understand  how  any  one  could  like 
that  girl  better  than  America  Ralson.  For  she  is 
grand,  if  she  is  rich;  and  Miss  Baysley  struck  me 
as  about  the  commonest  piece  of  prettiness  that  I 
ever  saw ;  her  grammar  was  frightful.  Propinquity 
will  do  much,  and  he  is  not  to  be  blamed  for  being 
thrown  with  her  in  the  care  of  her  family.  I  don't 
know  !  The  whole  thing  puzzles  me  more  than  it 
would  if  it  were  any  of  my  business,  and  I  don't  like 
to  be  puzzled,  you  know.  The  only  thing  I  am  sure 
of  is  that  Miss  Ralson  is  miserable  from  it,  and  that 
if  a  man  doesn't  know  enough  not  to  make  a  girl  like 
her  miserable,  he  ought  to ;  besides  it  is  not  very 
flattering  to  me,  to  have  a  man  whom  I  had  set  down 
as  a  toad  turn  out  something  else.  The  logic  of  Mr. 
Ardith  ought  to  have  been  trifling  with  that  silly 


MISS    FRANCES    DENNAM   TO    MRS.    DENNAM.  167 

child's  affections  while  he  was  making  love  to  Miss 
Ralson's  millions,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
doing  anything  of  the  kind,  unless  appearances  are 
deceiving.  Sometimes  they  are ! 

Your  affectionate  daughter, 

FRANCES. 


XXIX 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Jarfy  28,  1902. 
Dear  Lincoln: 

Of  course  I  appreciate  your  friendly  advice.  If  I 
were  as  far  off  as  Wottoma,  I  have  no  doubt  it  would 
be  perfectly  easy  for  me  to  act  upon  it,  and  I  wish  to 
heaven  I  were.  I  might  treat  with  poor  Essie 
through  the  long  distance  telephone,  and  tell  her  that 
I  never  really  cared  for  her,  and  all  would  be  well. 
But  in  this  comparative  proximity,  it  is  difficult.  She 
might  not  understand  my  motives  in  the  whole 
transaction  any  better  than  I  do.  After  Miss  Ralson 
was  gone  yesterday,  Essie  kept  away  from  me,  and  I 
made  it  easy  for  her  by  going  down  town  and  staying 
till  the  play  was  over.  Then  I  crept  in  and  began  to 
write.  I  expected  that  she  would  break  in  upon  me  at 
first,  but  nothing  worse  happened  than  old  Baysley's 
visiting  me  to  ask  if  I  knew  what  ailed  Ess,  who  had 
168 


WALLACE    ARDITH   TO   A.    L.    WIBBERT.         169 

gone  to  bed  crying.  I  promptly  lied  to  the  effect 
that  I  did  not,  and  then  he  stayed  to  rub  the  family 
gratitude  into  me  for  what  I  had  done  for  him  with 
Mr.  Ralson,  and  to  say  he  hoped  Ess  was  not  going 
to  be  sick,  or  anything,  for  he  did  not  know  what  we 
should  all  do.  He  sat  awhile  longer  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  with  his  stocking-feet  against  the  cooling 
radiator,  and  then  he  left  me  alone. 

I  suppose  we  are  not  responsible  for  our  thoughts, 
are  we  ?  I  should  hate  to  answer  for  mine,  and  I 
don't  exactly  know  what  I  shall  say  at  the  day  of 
judgment  when  I  am  asked,  How  about  that  little 
idea  that  Essie's  sickness  might  not  be  the  worst 
thing  for  you?  It  was  as  bad  as  that,  Line,  and 
before  I  went  to  bed,  I  got  down  on  my  knees,  and 
prayed  to  be  saved  from  a  thought  which,  if  it  was 
not  mine,  must  have  been  the  devil's  own.  You  may 
imagine  whether  I  slept  very  sweetly,  but  I  did  sleep, 
somehow,  and  I  slept  late,  so  late  that  I  did  not  have 
the  old  gentleman's  company  at  breakfast.  Essie 
heard  me  stirring,  and  when  I  came  out,  she  was 
bringing  my  coffee  and  bacon,  and  her  eyes  were  red 
and  swollen.  She  put  the  things  down,  and  then 
stood  hesitating,  and  looking  at  me.  She  sobbed  out 
some  kind  of  pathetic  apology  to  the  effect  that  she 


170  LETTERS    HOME. 

didn't  mean  to  offend  me,  and  hoped  I  was  not  mad 
at  her :  and  she  knew  she  was  not  educated  up  to  me ; 
and  not  fit  for  me,  anyway,  and  she  would  rather  die 
than  keep  me  from  being  happy. 

Isn't  life  sweet,  Line,  and  isn't  it  simple  ?  Perhaps 
you  will  say,  off  there  at  Wottoma  where  things  are 
so  easy,  that  I  ought  to  have  reminded  her  that  I  had 
never  said,  by  word  of  mouth  that  I  loved  her,  and 
that  so  far  as  I  was  concerned  there  was  no  engage 
ment  between  us,  and  she  could  not  make  me' 
unhappy,  for  she  had  no  claim  on  me  whatever.  Is 
that  what  you  would  have  done  ?  Perhaps  you  would, 
as  far  off  as  Wottoma ;  but  if  you  had  done  it  here, 
you  would  not  have  been  fit  to  associate  even  with  a 
miscreant  like  me. 

No,  Lincoln,  I  am  in  for  it,  and  if  the  heavenly 
powers  wont  help  me  out,  the  infernal  sha'n't.  I  go 
round  half-crazy.  But  if  my  mind  is  blurred  I  shall 
try  to  keep  my  soul  clear.  Don't  take  anything 
amiss  that  I  have  said.  I  do  value  your  interest,  and 
I  know  your  advice  is  good.  The  only  thing  the 
matter  with  it  is  that  it  is  impossible. 
Yours  ever, 

W.  A. 


XXX 

From  MR.  OTIS  BINNING  to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 
Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  February  5th,  1902. 
Dear  Margaret: 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  your  relapse,  and  I  will  gladly 
do  what  I  can  to  comfort  you  with  the  woes  of 
others,  while  you  are  renewing  your  care  of  yourself. 
I  must  say,  however,  that  I  cannot  respect, — though 
I  think  I  could  account  for  it  upon  a  principle  which 
you  would  not  allow, — your  paramount  interest  in 
the  affair  of  Miss  Ralson  and  the  pretty  boy.  It  is 
very  well  for  you  to  pretend  that  these  two  young 
persons  are  illustrations  of  New  York  conditions,  but 
you  must  confess,  before  I  go  further,  that  they  at 
tract  your  fancy  simply  on  the  old  human  ground  of 
their  lovership,  and  that  you  prefer  my  writing  about 
them  because,  after  all,  you  like  gossip  better  than 
anything  else  in  the  world.  Having  extorted  this 

m 


172  LETTERS    HOME. 

admission  from  you  I  do  not  mind  saying  that  I  have 
seen  very  little  of  them  for  the  last  ten  days,  and 
that  this  little  has  been  very  unsatisfactory.  Your 
young  man,  in  fact,  I  have  not  seen  at  all,  and  your 
young  woman  I  have  seen  only  in  the  most  cursory 
manner.  This  has  not  been  for  want  of  trying.  I 
have  called  several  times  at  the  Walhondia,  but  each 
time  Miss  Ralson  has  been  out,  or  been  out  of  repair ; 
and  when  I  have  found  her  in,  but  ill,  I  have  had  to 
console  myself  as  I  could  with  her  secretary,  Miss 
Dennam.  You  will  say  that  you  care  to  hear  nothing 
of  Miss  Dennam,  and  I  can  only  say  I  am  sorry  you 
don't,  for  I  am  sure  if  you  could  have  seen  the  sort 
of  conscientious  tolerance  of  me,  which  marks  the 
present  extreme  of  her  kindness,  growing  upon  her, 
you  would  have  been  amused ;  and  I  think  you  would 
have  admired  the  art  with  which  I  tried  to  convince 
her  that  I  was  not  the  heartless  old  worldling  she 
had  set  me  down  for.  I  can  feel  that  she  has  con 
tested  with  herself  every  inch  of  the  way  to  a  better 
opinion  of  me.  I  believe  she  formerly  regarded  me 
as  a  sort  of  emissary  from  the  mythical  Four 
Hundred  sent  to  beguile  Miss  Ralson,  and  bring  her 
into  its  toils  bereft  of  self-respect  and  the  flower  of 
her  native  ingenuousness.  But  now,  if  Miss  Dennam 


MR,  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.     173 

still  despises  me,  she  also  pities  me ;  she  has  consent 
ed  to  talk  with  me,  and  has  not  altogether  refused  to 
satisfy  a  curiosity  I  betrayed  concerning  the  civiliza 
tion  of  Lake  Ridge.  She  seems  a  survival  of  the  old 
New  England  morality,  and  I  was  not  surprised  to 
find  that  she  was  of  a  New  England  stock,  flourish 
ing  the  more  vigorously  from  its  transplantation  to 
western  New  York.  Something  ancestral  in  me 
sympathized  with  what  I  divined  of  her,  while  pos 
terity  as  I  represent  it,  kept  itself  with  difficulty  from 
smiling  at  her  pathetic  casuistries  in  the  matters  I 
made  bold  to  touch  on.  I  know  you  are  impatient 
of  this,  Margaret,  and  yet  I  think  you  would  have 
enjoyed  the  psychological  spectacle,  especially  when 
I  entered  upon  some  question  of  Mr.  Ardith,  which  I 
ventured  to  do,  very,  very  discreetly  after  I  found 
there  was  to  be  no  question  whatever  of  Miss  Ralson. 
Her  face  involuntarily  lighted  up  at  my  asking  if  she 
had  seen  him  lately,  and  then  darkened  again  as  she 
answered,  "  Not  for  a  week : "  I  could  see  her  men 
tally  making  scrupulous  count  of  the  days,  so  as  not 
sin  against  him  by  the  smallest  excess.  I  expressed 
the  hope  that  he  was  well,  and  she  answered  that 
when  they  saw  him  he  was  well.  Then  I  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  he  had  a  face  which  had  interested  me 


174  LETTERS  HOME. 

rather,  from  the  first,  as  having  a  certain  strength  in 
spite  of  his  apparent  physical  delicacy,  which 
promised  success  for  him;  and  she  shot  out,  as  if 
without  intending  it,  that  he  seemed  the  kind  of  per 
son  who  would  probably  get  what  he  wanted  in  life. 
I  asked  her  if  she  would  mind  telling  me  just  what 
she  meant  by  that,  and  she  said  that  she  thought  she 
had  already  expressed  her  meaning.  Then  I  sug 
gested,  "  You  mean  that  he  is  selfish  ?  "  and  I  added 
that  I  had  known  some  selfish  people  who  had  no 
more  got  what  they  wanted  than  some  unselfish  peo 
ple.  She  protested  that  she  did  not  mean  to  say  Mr. 
Ardith  was  more  selfish  than  others.  He  was  very 
ambitious,  and  he  was  talented ;  and  had  I  read  any 
of  his  things  ?  He  was  writing  for  the  Signal  now. 
She  offered  to  get  me  a  copy  of  the  paper,  if  I  liked ; 
but  I  was  afraid  she  wished  to  leave  the  subject,  and 
I  detained  her  with  another  question  of  psychological 
import.  I  began  with  the  fact  that  from  the  first  I 
had  felt  the  attraction  of  something  finally  innocent 
in  Mr.  Ardith's  face,  perhaps  the  air  of  one  who 
could  make  sacrifices;  and  I  proposed  the  inquiry 
whether  we  had  always  the  grounds  in  ourselves  for 
judging  others.  "  Have  I  been  judging  him  ?  "  she 
wanted  to  know,  and  of  course  I  answered,  "  Not  in 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS,  WALTER  BINNING.    175 

the  least.  I  was  thinking  merely  how  outside  of  the 
current  youth  my  age  seemed  to  leave  me,  "  and  she 
made  the  instant  reflection  that  a  woman  was  always 
disabled  from  judging  men,  young  or  old,  because 
she  was  a  woman.  I  admitted  that  this  was  probably 
the  case,  and  then  I  put  before  her  a  dissatisfaction  I 
am  beginning  to  experience  with  my  judgments  of 
New  York,  which  I  perceive  more  and  more  to  be 
upon  the  Boston  grounds,  when  they  ought  to  be 
upon  the  New  York  grounds,  if  they  are  to  have  any 
value.  That  made  her  laugh,  and  she  explained  her 
laughing  as  from  a  sudden  realization  of  the  possibil 
ity  that  she  had  been  judging  New  York  on  Lake 
Ridge  grounds.  She  would  not  explain  what  these 
were,  but  promised  sometime  to  do  so  if  I  would  ex 
plain  the  Boston  grounds.  I  offered  to  illustrate 
them  by  saying  that  in  our  Boston  solar  system  the 
meteoric  visitors  that  roam  harmlessly  through  the 
spacious  New  York  'firmament  would  jar  social 
planets  of  the  first  magnitude,  and  impart  a  thrill  of 
anxious  question  to  the  whole  social  framework ;  but 
as  if  she  felt  a  slant  towards  Miss  Ralson  in  this,  she 
refused  to  go  farther,  and  although  I  believed  that  I 
had  left  her  curious,  I  could  be  certain  only  that  I 
had  left  her  silent. 


176  LETTERS  HOME. 

I  tried  boldly,  for  your  sake,  to  discuss  Miss 
Ralson  in  plain  terms,  but  Miss  Dennam  would  have 
none  of  it.  When  I  ventured  some  analytical  appre 
ciations  of  the  Trust  himself,  she  did  not  refuse  to 
join  me,  though  again  at  my  conjectures  as  to 
whether  his  charming  daughter  was  more  like  her 
mother  than  like  the  Trust,  I  was  aware  of  being 
delicately  but  firmly  withheld.  It  was  as  if  Miss 
Dennam's  loyalty  included  reservations  such  as  a  per 
son  of  more  than  Lake  Ridge  experiences  might  have 
had,  and  she  was  defending  the  Ralson  family  from 
herself  as  well  as  from  me.  Yet,  in  spite  of  her,  and 
rather  from  her  repression  than  from  her  expression, 
I  fancied — always  in  your  interest,  Margaret ! — that 
there  was  some  sort  of  trouble  in  the  Ralson  house 
hold,  and  that  this  was  mystically  related  to  the 
retrorsive  Mr.  Ardith.  I  have  imagined — still  in 
your  interest! — that  the  beautiful  America — that  is 
really  her  spacious  name ;  in  the  West  they  seem  to 
require  names  of  continental  implication — has  felt 
the  charm  that  I  have  found  in  Mr.  Ardith,  without 
perhaps  being  able  to  make  him  responsive  to  her 
feeling.  It  would  be  a  novel  and  fascinating  situa 
tion,  would  not  it  ?  To  have  a  beautiful  millionairess 
in  love  with  a  poor  young  journalist,  and  to  have  the 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.    177 

poor  young  journalist  hesitating,  or  possibly  not  hesi 
tating,  about  denying  himself  the  boon  fortune:  that 
would  be  something  so  original  as  almost  to  be  abo 
riginal.  But  what  I  want  you  to  own,  Margaret,  is 
that  I  could  not  have  done  more  handsomely  by  the 
leisure  into  which  you  have  relapsed,  or  supplied  you 
with  a  richer  feast  of  surmise. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

OTIS. 


XXXI. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wbttoma. 
NEW  YORK,  Feb.  6,  1902. 

My  dear  Lincoln : 

I  hesitate  to  tell  you  what  has  happened,  but  of 
course  I  am  going  to  do  it. 

As  long  as  I  could,  I  made  an  excuse  to  myself  of 
the  Baysleys'  sickness  for  not  going  to  see  the  Ral- 
sons,  or  rather  America;  but  to  you  I  will  lie  as 
little  about  it  as  I  can.  When  the  other  Baysleys 
had  got  well  enough  to  do  their  own  work,  and  Essie 
had  not  taken  the  grippe  from  the  others,  I  had  no 
excuse  even  with  myself  for  staying  away.  You 
might  say  that  common  decency  might  still  have 
been  my  excuse,  but  my  experience  is  that  common 
decency  has  nothing  to  do  with  affairs  of  the  heart. 
Besides  there  was  nothing  explicit  about  the  situa 
tion,  and  I  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  rather  loutish  to 
let  it  make  a  break  in  the  friendship  between  us ;  I 
178 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.  L.  WIBBEKT.  179 

mean  between  America  and  me.  I  was  bound  to 
ignore  it,  and  ignore  it  actively  as  well  as  passively. 
So  I  went  down  to  the  Walhondia  this  afternoon,  and 
sent  up  my  name  to  the  family ;  sometimes  Mrs.  Ral- 
son  likes  to  see  me  when  America  is  out. 

There  was  a  longer  hesitation  in  the  bell-boy  than 
usual,  and  I  was  beginning  to  be  afraid  he  had  got 
lost  when  he  came  back  and  said  the  ladies  wished 
me  to  come  up.  I  don't  believe  the  elevator  ever  took 
up  a  heavier  load,  but  it  got  me  to  their  floor  without 
breaking  down,  and  the  maid  let  me  in,  as  usual. 
While  I  waited,  I  perused  the  roofs  of  the  city,  and 
found  a  curious  interest  in  impaling  myself  on  a 
church  steeple  about  fifty  feet  below  the  Ralsons'  win 
dows.  Then  I  heard  a  sort  of  shy  stir  behind  me,  and 
I  knew  that  it  was  my  enemy,  the  secretary,  who  had 
come  into  the  drawing-room.  I  don't  know  why  that 
girl  should  hate  me  unless  it  is  because  she  divines 
me,  and  I  don't  know  why  I  should  hate  her,  for  I 
entirely  agree  with  her  in  her  objections  to  me.  But 
she  was  civil  enough,  and  asked  me  to  sit  down,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  since  I  was  there  the  last  time, 
to  prevent  it.  She  said  Miss  Ralson  was  not  very 
well  and  was  sorry  she  should  not  be  able  to  see  me, 
but  that  Mrs.  Ralson  had  heard  I  was  below  and  had 


180  LETTERS   HOME. 

wished  me  to  come  up.  I  said  that  was  very  kind  of 
Mrs.  Ralson,  and  I  should  like  to  see  her  and  I  hoped 
there  was  nothing  serious  the  matter  with  Miss  Ral 
son;  of  course  I  knew  there  was  not,  and  Miss 
Dennam  made  my  assurance  doubly  sure.  After  a 
little  more  skirmishing  she  got  up,  and  said  she 
would  go  and  see  if  Mrs.  Ralson  were  ready,  for  she 
would  like  me  to  come  into  her  room,  if  I  would 
not  mind. 

She  went  out,  and  I  went  back  and  re-impaled  my 
self  on  the  steeple,  and  this  time  when  the  door 
opened  from  the  inner  room,  I  knew  it  was  not  Miss 
Dennam  who  was  returning.  I  knew  that  it  was 
America  who  was  sweeping  toward  me,  and  I  felt  the 
sort  of  authority  that  suppressed  indignation  lends  a 
girl's  movement,  in  her  swift  progress  towards  my 
back.  I  faced  about  promptly,  and  put  on  as  good  a 
front  as  I  could,  though  my  heart  was  in  my  boots ; 
but  I  left  her  the  initiative.  She  was  equal  to  it,  and 
towered  down  upon  me  with  an  out-stretched  hand. 
She  said,  "  How  do  you  do  ? "  with  all  her  robust 
presence,  and  there  was  not  a  moment's  fooling  with 
the  question  of  her  not  being  well.  I  never  saw  her 
look  better,  and  she  was  the  more  splendid  for  being 
mad  through  and  through  with  me.  (I  speak  with 


WALLACE    ABDITH   TO    A.    L.    WIBBERT.        181 

the  light  that  subsequent  events  threw  back  upon  the 
fact.)  She  said  it  was  very  kind  of  me  to  come 
when  I  must  be  so  anxious  about  my  friends ;  but 
perhaps  there  was  no  reason  to  be  anxious  about  them 
any  longer  ?  She  hoped  they  were  better,  and  that 
that  poor  little  thing  had  not  worked  herself  to  death 
taking  care  of  the  others :  such  a  frail-looking  little 
thing !  I  knew  that  she  meant  Essie,  and  I  said  that 
the  whole  Baysley  family  were  convalescent,  and  the 
poor  little  thing  was  none  the  worse  for  her  care  of 
them.  She  did  not  appear  to  have  noticed  anything 
that  did  not  refer  to  Essie,  but  to  that  she  said,  "  Of 
course,  you  would  see  that  she  didn't  overdo.  She 
told  me  how  you  had  helped  her. " 

I  had  nothing  in  particular  to  answer,  except  to 
disown  having  done  anything,  and  we  talked  a  lot  of 
inanities,  and  then  I  got  up  to  go ;  I  had  quite  forgot 
ten  her  mother.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her 
too,  for  she  merely  said,  Oh,  must  I  go  so  soon  ?  and 
followed  me  to  the  door,  where  she  put  out  her  hand 
again,  and  suggested,  "  I  don't  know  whether  you  will 
allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Ardith  ? "  I  knew 
very  well  what  she  meant,  but  I  got  back  with  the 
established  formula  that  we  use  when  we  know  per 
fectly  well  what  people  mean :  "  I  don't  know  what 


182  LETTERS    HOME. 

you  mean.  "  "I  beg  your  pardon  for  being  indis^ 
creet,"  she  said,  and  then  I  said,  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  mean, "  again.  "I  am  quite  willing  to  be  con 
gratulated  upon  anything  there  is  cause  for. "  "  On 
your  engagement  to  Miss  Baysley,  for  instance?" 
she  suggested.  She  tried  to  be  arch,  about  it,  but 
she  smiled  with  her  lips,  not  with  her  eyes,  and  I  saw 
her  chin  tremble.  I  got  the  words  up  from  some 
where  inside  of  me,  "  I  am  not  engaged  to  Miss  Bays- 
ley,  "  and  I  waited  for  the  next  thing  with  a  perfect 
quiet.  One  is  quiet  when  one  is  dead,  and  I  was 
dead  at  that  moment. 

She  took  a  good  long  look  at  me,  and  we  seemed 
tranced  together  in  an  endless  moment.  She  gasped, 
"  Not — engaged  !  "  "  Certainly  not  to  Miss  Baysley, " 
I  answered;  but  I  did  not  add  that,  if  I  was  not,  I 
was  a  scoundrel.  When  you  begin  a  bluff  of  that 
kind  you  have  to  go  on,  and  I  went  on,  "  I  am  in  love 
with  some  one  else,  "  and  again  we  held  each  other 
with  a  look.  "  Oh !  Did  you  know  she  was  coming 
here, — Miss  Deschenes  ? "  We  had  never  mentioned 
her  since  that  first  night  we  were  at  the  theatre  to 
gether,  and  there  must  have  been  a  great  stress  on  her 
to  make  her  do  it  now.  I  said,  "  No,  I  didn't  know- 
But  I  didn't  mean  Miss  Deschenes.  I  meant  you.  " 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO    A.    L.    WIBBEBT.        183 

It  was  as  if  I  had  dealt  her  some  kind  of  blinding 
stroke.  She  drooped  forward  with  her  left  hand  to 
her  eyes,  while  she  put  out  the  other  to  me,  as  if  to 
keep  herself  from  reeling.  She  said,  "Come !"  and 
pulled  me  back  into  the  room.  "  Now  tell  me  what 
you  mean !  " 

There  would  be  a  white  line  here  if  it  were  fiction, 
but  it  is  fact,  and  I  must  ask  you  to  imagine  the  rest 
without  giving  you  a  white  line  to  do  it  in.  I  stayed 
down  there  the  whole  afternoon,  then  to  dinner  and 
then  far  into  the  evening.  Now  I  am  here,  facing 
another  order  of  realities,  or  rather  fighting  away  from 
facing  them.  Every  moment  I  expect  Essie  to  come 
in  for  an  explanation  of  my  long  absence,  and  conso 
lation.  She  will  come  in,  and  hang  upon  me ;  and 
shall  I  deal  as  frankly  with  her  as  I  dealt  with  Amer 
ica  ?  Can  a  man  be  frank  with  two  women  at  a  time  ? 
I  could  make  America  understand  how,  without  a 
promise  from  me,  without  one  word  of  love-making, 
this  poor  girl  should  have  come  to  look  upon  me  as 
belonging  to  her,  and  should  trust  in  me  as  wholly  as 
if  I  had  asked  her  in  absolute  terms  to  be  my  wife. 
And  I  do  respect  her,  Line ;  I  do  like  her.  She  is  an 
ignorant  little  thing,  but  she  is  true,  and  she  is  not 
vulgar, — not  like  me,  who  feel  myself  false  to  the 


184  LBTTEKS    HOME. 

finger  tips,  and  vulgar  to  the  bottom  of  my  mean 
soul.  While  I  was  with  America,  I  was  safe.  I  ac 
counted  for  myself,  I  justified  myself,  or  else  I  let  her 
do  it  for  me,  on  condition  that  I  would  tell  Essie 
everything  at  once.  But  now  that  I  am  away  from 
her,  I  am  afraid,  and  all  my  fine,  bold  pretences  and 
purposes  have  tumbled  into  chaos.  Not  yours,  for 
you  won't  own  me  after  this,  but  the  devil's  own 

W.  A. 

P.  S.  Jennie  Baysley  has  just  been  in  to  tell  me 
that  Essie  is  down  with  the  grippe,  and  they  are  afraid 
she  is  very  bad.  They  want  me  to  go  for  the  doctor. 


XXXII. 

From    Miss   AMERICA    RALSON    to    Miss    CAROLINE 
DESCHENES,  Wottoma. 

NEW   YORK,  February  the  sixth,   One  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  two. 

My  dear  Caroline  : 

I  do  not  know  where  to  begin,  and  so  I  will  begin 
in  the  middle.  Mr.  Ardith  and  I  are  engaged,  and 
the  circumstances  are  such  that  I  think  you  ought  to 
be  the  very  first  to  know  it,  outside  of  my  own 
family.  It  happened  this  afternoon,  quite  out  of  a 
clear  sky,  though  I  guess  there  must  have  been  an 
electrical  disturbance  somewhere  ever  since  we  met 
here  in  December.  The  disturbance  was  increased 
by  something  I  imagined,  the  other  day,  and  there 
has  been  a  very  low  pressure  in  the  region  of  the 
heart  for  the  whole  week  past.  But  now  it  is  all 
over,  and  I  am  so  happy  !  He  has  been  so  brave  in 
explaining  everything  away ;  he  is  the  soul  of  truth 
185 


186  LETTERS    HOME. 

and  honor,  and  if  I  had  always  understood  the  liter 
ary  temperament  as  well  as  I  do  now,  I  would  never 
have  had  the  least  anxiety. 

It  may  seem  rather  heartless  for  me  to  be  parading 
this  before  you,  Caro,  but  I  do  not  believe  you  ever 
really  cared  for  him,  or  you  would  not  have  given 
him  up;  and  now  if  I  don't  let  you  have  a  second 
chance  you  can't  blame  me,  exactly,  can  you  ?  My 
first  idea  was,  "  Now  I  must  write  to  Caro  Deschenes, 
and  take  back  that  invitation,  "  but  I  am  not  going  to 
take  it  back,  and  you  must  come  the  same  as  ever. 
We  haven't  either  of  us  done  anything  to  be  ashamed 
of,  have  we?  Any  way,  Pm  not  ashamed,  and  you 
must  come  and  help  me  brazen  it  out.  That  is  what 
we  both  think,  Wallace  and  I,  and  he  joins  me  in 
wishing  to  see  you  again,  and  in  asking  your  blessing. 
I  can't  exactly  ask  you  to  come  and  be  my  brides 
maid,  for  we  haven't  got  quite  so  far  along  as  that, 
yet,  but  if  you  will  come  and  visit  me,  you  will  be  a 
ministering  angel.  I  will  not  write  the  great  news  to 
any  one  else  in  Wottoma,  and  I  will  ask  you  not  to 
say  anything  just  at  present.  My,  but  what  a  chap 
ter  for  the  Sunday  edition  of  the  Day!  If  they 
come  to  you  for  a  photograph,  I  wish  you  would  give 
them  that  one  with  the  lifted  profile — the  one  with 


MISS     RALSON  TO   MISS    DESCHENES.  187 

the    Madonna  look.     Mr.    Wibbert  has   got  lots    of 
Wallace.     With  all  the  love  I  can  spare  from  him, 
Yours  devotedly, 

AMERICA. 


XXXIII. 

From   WALLACE    A.    ARDITH    to    A.    L.    WIBBERT, 
Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  Feb.  7th,  1902. 
Dear  Lincoln : 

I  feel  that  I  left  you  at  the  close  of  an  exciting 
installment  last  night,  as  if  I  were  writing  some 
wretched  romance,  instead  of  this  wretched  reality. 
I  posted  my  letter  on  the  way  to  the  doctor,  who 
found  things  not  so  bad  as  they  had  looked  to  the 
family,  but  it  is  a  severe  case,  with  the  peculiarities 
of  the  sudden  sort  of  seizure.  As  I  cannot  go  to  the 
sick  room,  I  am  rather  left  out  of  it;  and  what  do 
you  think  ?  I  have  spent  the  morning,  while  waiting 
to  be  sent  on  errands,  and  doing  odd  jobs  about  the 
house,  in  writing  more  "  Impressions  of  a  Provincial" 
for  the  Signal !  How  strangely  we  are  made,  we  who 
are  born  to  scribble !  I  feel  a  sort  of  disgrace  in  it, 
but  it  is  not  as  bad  as  the  other  sort  of  disgrace  I 
feel,  and  it  is  a  change,  any  way. 
188 


WALLACE    AKDITH    TO    A.    L'.    WIBBERT.       189 

I  was  to  have  gone  down  to  the  Walhondia  this 
morning,  to  breakfast  there,  but  I  had  to  send  a  note 
instead.  I  was  afraid  it  would  bring  America  back 
with  it,  on  one  of  her  magnificent  impulses,  but 
women's  instincts  are  to  be  trusted  in  these  matters. 
She  merely  answered  me  with  a  note  of  beautiful 
sympathy  (that  made  me  want  to  have  the  mountains 
fall  on  me,)  and  forbade  me  to  think  of  coming  near 
her  if  I  could  be  of  the  least  use  in  the  world  here. 
But  I  had  better  go,  and  I  shall,  as  soon  as  old 
Baysley  gets  home  this  afternoon ;  there  ought  to  be 
some  man  about,  here.  I  beg  his  pardon  for  calling 
him  old  Baysley ;  my  light-hearted  disrespect  for  him 
is  gone,  along  with  the  rest  of  my  light-heartedness. 
I  can  only  pity  the  poor  old  fellow,  and  hope  that  I 
am  not  pitying  myself  at  the  same  time.  I  will  keep 
you  posted,  of  course. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  A. 


XXXIV. 

From  MR.  OTIS   BINNING  to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 
Boston. 

NEW    YORK,  February  14,  1902. 
My  Dear  Margaret  : 

In  writing  the  date  of  this  letter  I  have  realized 
what  day  it  is,  and  I  venture  to  offer  myself  for  your 
Valentine  :  I  do  not  believe  Wally  will  really  mind 
much. 

As  a  metropolis  we  are  in  tiptoe  expectation  of 
Prince  Henry's  coming,  and  if  we  can  believe  the 
newspapers,  which  we  never  can,  our  businesses  and 
bosoms  are  penetrated  with  a  generous  impatience, 
alloyed  by  no  base  respect  of  persons,  or  love  of 
royalties,  but  inspired  solely  by  a  hitherto  unimag- 
ined  sympathy' for  the  great  German  people  and  their 
magnanimous  ruler.  Some  of  us  do  not  see  quite 
how  we  are  going  to  express  this  in  the  municipal 
reception  of  a  representative  who  was  born  and  not 
190 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.   191 

chosen  for  the  business,  but  we  are  going  to  try,  on  a 
scale  never  before  attempted.  You  will  read  all  that 
in  the  public  prints,  and  I  have  nothing  subjective  to 
offer  you  concerning  it.  If  there  is  anything  that 
really  interests  or  amuses  me  it  is  the  fact  that  while 
this  storm  is  going  on  in  the  newspapers,  the  depths 
of  our  life  are  quite  unstirred  by  it.  We  read  of  the 
Prince's  coming,  and  perhaps  we  fleetingly  think  of 
it,  but,  in  a  wonderful  measure,  nobody  speaks  of  it. 
We  are  queer,  we  Americans,  and  if  any  one  takes  up 
the  study  of  us  in  that  dark  future  when  we  shall 
have  ceased  to  be  Americans,  he  will  find  the  New 
Yorkers,  and  not  the  frontiersmen,  the  queerest 
Americans  of  all.  In  fact  the  New  Yorkers  are  the 
frontiersmen,  as  I  will  explain  to  you,  some  day ;  but 
now  the  postulate  would  be  too  exhausting  to  handle. 
I  usually  have  a  nap  in  a  secluded  armchair  at  the 
club  after  lunch,  and  then  I  cross  the  dangerous 
trolley  lines  for  a  stroll  into  the  Park.  In  common 
with  a  great  many  other  very  young  and  very  old 
people,  I  make  it  a  large  part  of  my  business  there  to 
feed  the  squirrels,  which  are  of  a  tameness  curiously 
flattering  to  human  pride.  Privately,  I  think  the 
squirrel  is  an  extremely  stupid  little  beast,  with  but 
small  and  imperfect  use  of  even  such  minor  percep- 


192  LETTERS  HOME. 

live  faculties  as  seeing  and  hearing.  But  when,  after 
starting  up  on  his  hind  feet,  and  holding  his  forearms 
pressed  to  his  throbbing  breast,  he  makes  me  out  at  a 
little  distance,  and  comes  loping  across  the  grass  to 
get  the  nut  I  am  holding  out  to  him,  I  feel  very 
much  as  I  think  I  should  if  a  great  beauty  should 
mistake  me  for  a  splendid  youth,  or  Prince  Henry 
should  shake  hands  with  me.  It  seems  to  single  me 
out  from  my  race  as  worthy  the  Creator's  peculiar 
confidence,  which  this  small  creature  is  commissioned 
to  express ;  and  though  I  see  plenty  of  other  squirrels 
making  for  nuts  held  out  to  them  by  other  men,  the 
fact  does  not  affect  my  self-approval ;  I  am  still  singly 
our  Creator's  choice.  In  fact  I  think  I  have  some 
really  special  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  myself,  for  in 
the  Ramble  there  is  one  squirrel  who  is  my  personal 
acquaintance :  not  because  I  think  he  knows  me,  for 
I  doubt  it,  but  because  I  know  him,  though  I  should 
not  know  him  by  his  mental  or  moral  difference  from 
other  squirrels  so  much  as  by  the  fact  that  one  of  his 
paws  has  been  hurt,  perhaps  in  the  day  of — 

— "  Old,  unhappy,  far-off  things, 
And  battles  long  ago. " 

The  scar  may  be  from  a  wound  received  in  the  worst 
of  causes,  but  it  serves :  it  distinguishes  that  squirrel, 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING.    193 

and  gives  him  a  limp  to  which  my  imagination  bows. 
I  am  not  sure  that  it  does  not  make  him  cross ;  at 
any  rate  he  is  rather  bad-tempered,  and  he  does  me 
the  honor,  when  he  climbs  upon  my  knee,  to  bite  my 
finger  if  I  am  slow  in  getting  out  the  kernels  of  the 
nuts  I  give  him.  He  prefers  them  crumbled  up,  and 
he  noses  for  them  in  my  palm  like  a  minute  pig. 
This  gives  me  a  delight  which  the  cleanest  conscience 
could  not  impart.  I  glow  with  the  most  agreeable 
self -righteousness,  and  I  am  aware  of  smiling  in  my 
rapture  like  a  sinner  who  has  made  sure  of  the  for 
giveness  he  has  been  rather  uncertain  of. 

This  afternoon  T  found  my  squirrel,  or  my  squirrel 
found  me,  with  unusual  ease  in  the  Eamble,  and  I 
was  sitting  with  him  on  my  knee,  feeding  him 
crumbled  peanuts  (he  prefers  peanuts)  and  rejoicing 
in  the  excellent  terms  which  I  was  on  with  my  Maker 
through  some  merit  of  mine  which  that  sagacious  an 
imal  had  divined,  when  I  was  sensible  of  being  rather 
steadily  gazed  at.  Steps  had  paused  a  little  way 
from  me  and  I  surmised  another  squirrel  amateur :  we 
often  stop  to  look  at  one  another  and  envy  one 
another  in  moments  of  high  success.  I  enjoyed  my 
triumph  for  a  due  space,  and  then  I  looked  up  to 
meet  the  gaze  which  I  felt,  and  found  that  it  was  my 


194  LETTERS    HOME. 

pretty  boy  from  Iowa  who  was  looking  at  me.  I  dare 
say  lie  would  have  respected  my  preoccupation  with 
superior  interests,  and  passed  on,  but  just  then  the 
squirrel  finished  the  last  morsel  of  his  peanuts,  and 
ran  away.  This  allowed  me  to  give  Mr.  Ardith  a 
less  divided  inspection,  and  I  discovered  such  tragedy 
in  his  face  as  I  have  not  often  seen  off  the  stage. 
What  will  you  say,  Margaret,  when  I  declare  that  I 
discovered  there  a  hardy  cynicism,  mixed  with  a  fine 
grief,  and  an  utter  despondency,  such  as  one  does 
not  often  find  in  the  human  countenance  even  on  the 
stage  ?  But  I  know  you  will  say  that  I  discovered 
them  there  after  he  told  me  what  was  the  matter. 

The  strange  part  is  that  he  did  not  tell  me.  I 
asked  him  how  he  did,  and  he  answered  that  he  did 
very  well,  and  while  he  informed  himself  of  my 
health,  I  made  room  for  him  on  my  bench,  and 
invited  him  to  sit  down.  The  day  was  so  mild,  and 
I  was  so  well  wrapped  up  that  I  did  not  mind  his 
taking  cold  if  he  chose  to  risk  it ;  in  fact  I  was  not 
conscious  of  his  seeming  rather  pale  and  pinched  till 
afterwards.  He  sat  down,  and  told  me  that  we  had 
met  first  in  that  place,  and  I  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  yes, " 
till  he  reminded  me  of  an  incident  which  I  had 
forgotten,  but  which  he  seemed  to  have  valued 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING,    195 

greatly.  It  was  of  two  young  lovers  whom  we  had 
happened  to  notice,  walking  up  toward  that  colossal 
bust  of  Schiller,  which  you  may  remember  here,  in  a 
turn  of  the  path  by  the  lake  with  their  arms  round 
each  other.  They  glanced  back  and  saw  us,  and 
their  arms  dropped.  Then  the  young  girl  in  a  brave 
defiance,  made  a  fine  rush  at  her  lover,  and  flung  her 
arm  about  him  again,  and  so  they  passed  from  our 
sight  into  the  nook  beyond  the  bust.  My  youth  and 
I  had  some  banter  about  the  little  episode,  and  at  his 
saying  it  ought  to  go  into  a  poem,  I  suggested 
putting  it  into  a  play.  But  the  thing  quite  went  out 
of  my  mind,  and  though  when  I  next  met  the  Iowa 
youth,  I  was  teased  with  the  sense  of  having  met 
him  before,  I  took  it  for  one  of  those  intimations  of 
pre-existance  which  are  rather  commoner  with  us  as 
we  get  on  in  life  than  the  intimations  of  post- 
existence.  I  now  said,  "  Well,  I  suppose  they  are 
still  liebing  and  lebing, "  with  Schiller's  line  about 
having  done  so,  in  my  mind.  "Have  you  got  them 
into  a  poem  yet  ? "  He  said,  "  No  more  than  you  m  a 
play,  I  suppose.  "  I  confessed  that  I  had  not  im 
mortalized  them  in  drama,  and  then  I  suggested  that 
it  was  perhaps  as  well  to  leave  them  in  life,  and  at 
that  he  dropped  his  head,  with  a  sigh,  and  said,  "  Oh, 


196  LETTERS    HOME. 

yes;  but  if  it  was  a  mistake  of  theirs,  literature  could 
have  helped  them  out  of  it  much  easier  than  life 
could. " 

This  notion,  together  with  the  sigh,  interested  me, 
and  I  scented  a  bit  of  psychology  that  I  might 
purvey  to  you.  "  Then  you  think, "  I  said,  "  that 
such  things  are  sometimes  mistakes  ? "  and  "  Aren't 
they  usually  ? "  he  asked.  I  said,  "  Well,  that  is  what 
they  are  supposed  to  be  in  the  first  blossoming  of  the 
affections, "  and  he  asked  again,  "  The  affections  are 
supposed  to  learn  wisdom  for  the  second  or  third 
blossoming?"  This  would  have  been  a  sneer,  if  it 
had  not  been  so  sad,  and  I  did  not  pounce  upon  the 
young  man  for  it,  as,  for  instance,  you  would  have 
done.  I  merely  said,  "That  is  the  accepted  attitude 
toward  such  matters.  Then  you  think 

'  They  are  false  guides,  the  affections. ' 

in  affairs  of  the  heart  ?  "  I  claimed  that  I  was  quite 
disinterested  in  the  inquiry,  for  I  was  past  making  a 
selfish  use  of  any  wisdom  on  the  subject  that  he  hap 
pened  to  have.  My  young  man  laughed  rather 
desolately,  and  said  the  affections  seemed  to  be  of  so 
many  minds,  and  perhaps  that  was  the  reason  why 
people  of  experience  distrusted  them,  and  thought 
them  false  when  they  were  really  sincere  in  their 


MR    OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING.   197 

devotion  to  several  objects.  I  said  that  was  rather 
interesting,  but  I  asked,  "  Was  it  true  ? "  He  allowed 
that  it  might  not  be  true,  and  put  the  burden  on  me 
of  saying  whether  it  was  so  or  not.  I  confess  that 
in  a  swift  review  of  my  past,  I  seemed  to  find  some 
proofs  of  his  theory,  but  I  said  that  in  all  such  cases 
I  thought  I  remembered  a  supreme  goddess  of  my 
idolatry,  though  there  might  be  other  demi-god- 
desses  at  the  same  time.  I  expressed  my  surprise 
that  the  fact  had  never  been  adequately  treated  in 
literature,  and  he  answered  bitterly  that  life  had 
never  been  adequately  treated  in  literature,  either  be 
cause  life  was  too  bold,  or  because  literature  was  too 
timid. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  this  was  a  point  at  which  I 
could  becomingly  put  on  the  moralist  with  one  so 
much  my  junior,  and  I  intimated  that  the  man  who 
imagined  himself  in  love  with  several  women  at  the 
same  time  would  do  well  to  examine  himself  for  the 
question  whether  he  was  not  solely  in  love  with  him 
self.  To  my  surprise,  he  was  not  daunted  by  my 
attitude,  "  Yes, "  he  said,  "  such  a  man  might  be  a 
rascal,  and  yet  he  might  be  least  a  rascal  in  the 
reality  of  his  varied  preference.  His  only  excuse  for 
liking  one  woman  for  one  thing,  and  another  woman 


198  LETTERS    HOME. 

for  another  reason,  would  be  the  honesty  of  his 
liking.  "  "  Well,  my  dear  young  friend, "  I  an 
swered,  "  I  should  much  rather  contemplate  such  a 
predicament  in  literature  than  in  life.  In  literature, 
I  might  be  psychologically  interested  in  him,  or  the 
author's  skill  in  working  him  out,  but  in  life,  I  am 
afraid  I  should  wish  to  kick  him. "  My  mind  was 
playing  with  the  thought  of  that  glowing  daughter  of 
the  Trust  whom  I  have  seen  so  much  with  this  Mr. 
Ardith,  and  I  was  wondering  if  he  were  associating 
some  inferior  deity  with  her  in  the  worship  which  I 
have  fancied  him  paying  her.  I  thought  it  as  well  to 
let  him  know  how  a  dispassionate  witness  would  feel 
in  such  an  event ;  but  he  was  not  crushed,  or  at  least 
not  silenced  by  my  severity.  "  The  man  might  wish 
to  kick  himself,"  he  said,  "  and  yet  he  might  feel  a 
mystery  in  the  affair  which  the  spectator  couldn't, 
and  he  might  feel  that  the  mystery  was  something  for 
which  kicking  was  not  the  just  meed.  Perhaps  the 
author  who  treated  him  in  literature  would  do  well  to 
take  into  account  a  genuine  shame  in  him  for  what 
was  so  adverse  to  the  general  acceptations  in  such 
matters ;  they  can't  be  called  convictions. "  His 
courage  interested  me,  Margaret,  and  I  asked  with  a 
tolerence  which  I  hope  you  won't  call  disgraceful. 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.   WALTER  BINNING    199 

"  How  would  you  justify  him  ? "  He  answered,  "  I 
wouldn't  justify  him ;  I  would  ascertain  him,  "  and  I 
thought  that  neat,  if  not  acute,  which  I  also  thought 
it.  "  I  would  find  out  whether  his  condition  was  a 
real  psychological  condition,  or  whether  it  was  only 
the  sort  of  hallucination  which  the  mere  horror  of  a 
thing  sometimes  produces  in  us,  and  makes  us  feel  as 
if  it  were  '  founded  on  fact. ' '  I  could  not  deny 
that  this  was  a  very  pretty  conjecture,  and  I  did  not. 
"  For  literature  ? "  he  pursued.  "  Prettier  than  for 
life,  "  I  said,  and  I  said  also  that  the  thing  might 
merit  inquiry  in  life,  too,  where  the  first  business  of 
the  inquirer  would  be  to  find  out  whether  the  fellow 
was  not  a  plain  rascal.  He  consented  to  that,  and  I 
went  on.  "  Such  a  case  I  should  think  might  very 
well  be  submitted  to  'the  finer  female  sense'  that 
Tennyson  believes  more  easily  offended  than  ours." 
Then  I  thought  I  might  fitly  cover  all  the  possibilities 
while  I  was  about  it.  "If  it  were  a  case  in  real  life, 
the  fellow  couldn't  do  better  than  go  with  it  to  some 
woman  whom  he  suspected  of  not  liking  him.  Then 
he  would  be  apt  to  get  an  opinion  worth  having.  And 
if  it  were  a  case  in  literature,  he  couldn't  have  better 
criticism  than  such  a  woman's  mind.  " 

To  be  quite  honest,  I  had  begun  to  fancy  some- 


200  LETTERS    HOME. 

thing  unwholesome  in  the  young  man,  and  I  was  now 
willing  to  defend  myself  from  him  at  the  cost  of 
hurting  him.  I  did  not  like  the  direction  the  con 
versation  had  taken,  but  I  don't  say  this  was  very 
handsome  of  me ;  I  had  led  him  on  to  talk  freely,  and 
I  was  making  a  personal  affair  of  what  might  be 
quite  an  abstraction.  He  sat  still  without  saying 
anything,  and  then  he  sneezed  violently  three  times. 
This  made  me  look  at  him,  and  I  saw  that  he  was 
wearing  a  fall  overcoat ;  he  shivered,  and  I  said, 
"  Aren't  you  made  up  rather  lightly  for  this  evening 
air  ?  '*  and  he  answered  that  he  had  put  on  that  coat 
earlier  in  the  afternoon,  and  had  got  warm  with 
walking,  but  now  he  did  feel  the  chill.  He  rose  to 
take  leave  of  me,  and  I  put  out  my  hand  to  shake 
his;  it  was  cold.  "You  must  look  out  for  the 
grippe, "  I  said,  and  he  answered,  "  I've  been  living 
with  it  for  the  last  three  or  four  weeks.  The  people 
where  I  lodge  have  all  been  down  with  it  one  after 
another,  like  a  row  of  bricks.  " 

He  lifted  his  hat,  and  went  off  down  the  walk 
away  from  the  Schiller,  and  as  h.e  went  I  followed 
him  with  a  forgiving  pathos  which  I  hope  you  will 
share,  Margaret. 

Yours    affectionately, 

OTIS. 


XXXV. 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.     DENNAM, 
Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  Feb.  14,  1902. 
My  Dear  Mother  : 

I  want  to  tell  you  to  begin  with,  that  I  feel  as  if  all 
my  principles  had  been  pulled  up  by  the  roots,  and 
flung  out  on  the  woodpile  in  the  back  yard,  like  old 
geraniums  that  had  failed  to  do  their  duty  indoors, 
and  did  not  deserve  anything  better.  I  haven't  got 
a  single  principle  left,  and  though  I  am  not  imme 
diately  concerned,  I  feel  that  I  have  no  dependence 
but  Providence,  in  case  anything  should  happen. 

I  wrote  you  about  the  call  which  Miss  Ralson  made 
me  make  with  her  at  the  Baysleys'  to  see  what  had 
become  of  Mr.  Ardith ;  and  I  told  you  that  we  saw 
what,  only  too  distinctly.  But  that  seems  to  have 
been  an  optical  delusion.  Mr.  Ardith  certainly  ap 
peared  to  be  engaged  to  the  youngest  Miss  Baysley, 
201 


202  LETTERS    HOME. 

but  if  we  are  to  believe  subsequent  events,  he  was  not 
engaged  to  her  in  the  least.  A  week  after  we  had 
settled  down  to  our  mistake,  Mr.  Ardith  called,  and 
asked  for  the  ladies.  This  gave  Miss  Ralson  a  chance 
to  say  that  she  was  sick,  or  something,  but  her  mother 
had  heard  his  name,  and  she  insisted  on  having  him 
come  up.  I  received  him,  and  then  while  I  went  in 
to  make  Mrs.  Ralson  up  for  company — I  mean  moral 
ly,  for  physically  the  maid  looks  after  her,  of  course — 
Miss  Ralson  found  that  she  could  and  would  see  him, 
and  she  did.  What  took  place  I  shall  probably  never 
know  in  detail,  but  when  I  came  back  to  get  Mr.  Ar 
dith  for  her  mother,  he  was  gone,  and  Miss  Ralson 
astounded  me  by  grappling  my  unyielding  form  to  her 
heart,  and  announcing  that  she  was  engaged  to  Mr. 
Ardith.  She  said  that  sometime  she  would  tell  me 
about  it,  but  that  now  she  merely  wanted  to  celebrate, 
and  she  went  on  with  a  celebration  in  which  Mr.  Ar 
dith  was  proclaimed  the  noblest  and  wisest  and  best 
of  his  sex.  He  seemed  to  have  achieved  his  pre 
eminence  by  having  told  her  that  he  was  not  in  love 
with  the  youngest  Miss  Baysley,  but  only  and  always 
with  herself,  and  that  the  appearances  which  were  so 
much  against  this  theory  could  be  easily  accounted 
for  on  the  ground  that  he  had  felt  very  sorry  for  Miss 


MISS  TRANCES   DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    203 

Baysley  in  her  trials  with  her  sick  family,  and  had 
befriended  her  in  every  way  he  could,  to  the  extent 
of  helping  her  with  the  housework,  but  he  had  never 
told  her  that  he  cared  for  her,  and  he  was  not  re 
sponsible  for  her  thinking  he  did,  if  she  thought  so. 
I  must  say,  mother,  that  when  Miss  Ralson  got 
that  off  to  me,  I  felt  that  Mr.  Ardith  deserved  all  my 
original  disapprobation,  but  I  could  not  say  so  to  Miss 
Ralson.  I  was  so  indignant  I  could  hardly  speak,  but 
if  I  could  have  spoken  I  had  no  business  to  tell  her 
that  I  always  believed  he  was  a  heartless  little  wretch, 
and  now  I  believed  he  was  a  wicked  traitor.  I  wanted 
to  fly  out  and  declare  that  such  a  simpleton  as  that 
poor  girl  even,  could  not  be  so  self-deluded  as  to 
think  he  cared  for  her,  if  he  had  not  looked  it  and 
acted  it,  and  that  his  not  saying  it  did  not  matter. 
But  I  held  in,  and  Miss  Ralson  went  on,  and  did  not 
notice  my  coolness,  except  to  say  that  I  was  not  cele 
brating  worth  a  cent,  and  to  laugh  at  what  she  con 
sidered  my  reserved  nature.  The  most  that  I  could 
do  was  to  intimate  that  she  would  want  to  tell  her 
father  and  mother  at  once,  and  then  she  said,  No,  she 
and  Mr.  Ardith  had  agreed  to  let  it  go,  a  little  while, 
and  it  was  to  be  a  dead  secret  between  her  and  me. 
She  said  it  would  be  all  right  with  her  father  and 


204  LETTERS  HOME. 

mother,  whenever  she  told  them,  for  they  were  both 
as  much  in  love  with  Mr.  Ardith  as  she  was;  and  I 
could  not  deny  that.  Mrs.  Ralson  has  been  quite 
frank  about  it  from  the  beginning  with  me,  and  has 
always  hoped  that  Make  would  take  a  fancy  to  him, 
and  Mr.  Ralson  has  done  everything  that  an  entire 
resignation  of  his  paternal  duties  to  Mr.  Ardith  could 
do  to  show  him  that  there  would  be  no  trouble  when 
he  wanted  to  assume  any  filial  duties.  Ever  since  Mr. 
Ardith  has  been  coming  here  there  has  been  a  sort  of 
lull  in  Miss  Ralson's  social  campaign,  and  I  think  her 
father  has  felt  it  such  a  blessed  respite  that  he  has 
been  willing  to  prolong  it  on  any  terms.  He  has  not 
had  to  go  with  her  to  any  of  the  functions  where  she 
used  to  drag  him,  and  she  has  left  off  a  great  many 
of  them  herself. 

It  was  a  week  ago  that  she  told  me  of  her  engage 
ment,  and  he  has  been  here  a  part  of  every  day  since, 
and  I  must  say  that  he  has  seemed  very  much  in  love 
with  her.  They  have  kept  up  a  pretty  lively  inter 
change  of  notes,  and  I  have  had  to  be  consulted  on 
many  of  the  letters  and  answers ;  in  fact  I  have  had 
to  help  compose  some  of  the  answers,  for  Miss  Ralson 
has  held  that  she  ought  to  make  them  the  nicest  kind, 
and  as  nearly  up  to  his  as  possible.  Sometimes  I  have 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     205 

wanted  to  resign  and  clear  out  altogether,  for  I  could 
not  approve  of  the  affair  as  it  stood,  and  I  felt  that 
if  I  was  abetting  it  I  was  doing  a  thing  that  my  con 
science  would  give  me  gowdy  for  sooner  or  later.  He 
has  been  staying  on  with  the  Baysleys,  and  has  made 
an  excuse  of  that  girl's  having  the  grippe  herself  now 
for  not  leaving  them.  I  don't  understand  that  he  is 
actually  helping  nurse  her,  but  the  family  have  got  to 
depending  on  him  so  that  he  cannot  leave  them. 
That  is  the  prose  of  it,  and  what  the  poetry  of  it  is 
that  he  makes  up  for  Miss  Ralson,  I  don't  know,  of 
course ;  I  have  kept  away  from  their  poetry  as  much 
as  I  could ;  but  any  sort  of  doggerel  would  do  for 
Miss  Ralson  in  the  state  she  is  in.  I  don't  mean  to 
say  that  he  has  been  dishonest  with  her,  about  the 
Baysley  girl,  but  if  he  had  wanted  to  be,  Miss  Ralson 
has  offered  him  every  inducement  by  her  blind  faith 
in  him.  Any  old  thing  that  he  chose  to  say  would 
have  gone  with  her.  Her  only  trouble  was  that  she 
couldn't  go  and  be  with  him,  when  he  couldn't  come 
and  be  with  her. 

I  don't  know  whether  this  is  preparing  you  for 
what  has  just  happened  or  not,  or  whether  anything 
could  prepare  you ;  nothing  could  have  prepared  me, 
I  know.  Mr.  Ardith  has  been  here,  and  he  has  left 


206  LETTERS    HOME. 

me  in  a  state  of  mind  that  is  worse  than  no  mind.  He 
asked  for  me,  but  I  should  not  have  been  allowed  to 
see  him  more  than  a  minute  alone  if  Miss  Ralson  had 
been  at  home  ;  she  happened  to  be  out,  and  so  I  had 
the  strange  visit  quite  to  myself.  For  an  accepted 
lover,  he  has  looked  more  excited  than  happy  during 
the  whole  time  since  she  announced  their  engagement 
to  me,  but  when  he  came  in  to-day,  he  looked  ghastly. 
He  hardly  took  time  to  say  how  do  you  do,  before  he 
began  on  the  business  that  apparently  filled  him  to 
the  brim. 

He  opened  with  the  surprising  remark,  "  I  know 
you  don't  like  me,  Miss  Dennam. "  I  was  not  going 
to  deny  a  thing  of  that  kind,  even  if  it  were  true, 
and  so  I  smiled,  and  asked  how  he  had  happened  to 
find  out  my  secret ;  but  he  would  not  have  any  fool 
ing.  He  said,  "  No  matter ;  I  know  it,  and  I  have 
come  to  you  because  I  know  it. "  He  stopped,  and  I 
just  waited.  "  I  have  always  felt  that  you  were  dis 
posed  to  judge  me  severely,  and  now  I  want  all  the 
severity  you  can  give  my  case.  If  I  have  been  letting 
myself  up  too  easily,  I  know  you  won't  abet  me.  "  Of 
course,  I  suspected  that  this  had  something  to  do  with 
his  engagement  to  Miss  Ralson,  but  still  I  did  not  say 
anything,  and  he  went  on  again.  "  I  saw  what  you 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    207 

thought  that  day  at  the  Baysleys',  and  now  I  have 
come  to  say  that  up  to  a  certain  point,  you  were  right. 
I  want  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  if  a  breast  like 
mine  can  be  made  clean,  and  to  tell  you  that  in  a 
kind  of  way  I  did  care  for  that  poor  girl.  "  "  Excuse 
me,  Mr.  Ardith, "  I  said,  "I  would  rather  you  would 
not  tell  me  this.  I  don't  want  to  know  about  your 
affairs."  But  that  was  not  the  truth,  and  you  know 
it,  mother,  and  perhaps  he  saw  it.  At  any  rate  he 
went  on,  just  as  if  I  had  been  dying,  as  I  really  was, 
to  hear  about  his  affairs. 

He  said,  "  I  can't  help  that :  you  have  got  to  hear 
about  them.  The  fact  that  you  have  always  distrusted 
me  has  given  me  the  right  to  make  you  hear,  for  you 
are  the  one  person  who  can  see  these  things  in  the 
true  light,  and  do  me  justice. "  He  tried  to  keep 
quiet  but  he  was  trembling  with  excitement,  and  he 
looked  fairly  sick.  "  You  know  that  whether  I  cared 
for  her  or  not,  she  cared  for  me,  and  now  you  know 
that  I  have  been  telling  America  that  I  care  for  her. 
I  do  care  for  her — the  whole  world.  She  is  the  best 
and  dearest  thing  in  it  to  me ;  and  yet  I  care  for  that 
other — too.  I  don't  defend  myself,  and  if  I  try  to 
explain  myself  it's  because — because  I  want  to  see  if 
you  can  understand  me.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me 


208  LETTERS   HOME. 

that  I  must  be  insane.  My  mind  keeps  working  on 
that  one  point,  and  can't  leave  it.  I  have  thought 
that  a  word  of  blame,  a  verdict  of  guilty,  would  kill 
me.  But  now  I  believe  that  it  is  the  only  thing  that 
can  save  me.  And  I've  come  to  you  for  it ;  but  I 
won't  let  you  think  that  I  have  meant  any  harm.  I 
haven't.  I  came  to  New  York  after  a  wretched  busi 
ness  in  Wottoma  which  I  know  you  know  about,  and 
I  have  been  in  love  with  America  ever  since  I  saw  her 
here,  the  first  night,  and  I  realized  how  good  and 
beautiful  she  was :  I  had  never  known  it  before,  but 
the  time  had  come.  Well,  I  got  in  with  those  peo 
ple — the  people  I  am  living  with — and  I  can  say  that 
I  helped  them  in  their  helplessness.  It  was  what  any 
body  would  have  done  under  the  same  circumstances. 
They  were  from  the  town  where  I  was  born,  and  they 
were  poor,  and  pretty  soon  they  were  sick,  all  but  that 
girl.  I  don't  know  whether  she  cared  for  me,  at  first, 
and  it  may  have  been  my  being  friendly  that  made 
her.  But  I  saw  it  coming,  and  I  liked  it — yes,  I  did  ! 
though  I  was  in  love  with  America  then  as  much  as 
I  could  be.  I  haven't  wronged  the  girl  by  one  word 
of  love-making,  but  I  know  she  thinks  I  am  in  love 
with  her.  There  you  have  the  whole  case — or  not 
the  whole,  either.  The  others  have  had  the  grippe 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    209 

and  got  over  it.  Now  she  has  it.  At  first  I  thought 
she  was  going  to  die,  and — but  she  is  getting  better, 
though  she  is  still  very  sick.  The  rest  have  taken 
care  of  her,  of  course,  and  my  part  has  been  what  it 
is,  yet,  to  keep  up  the  ghastly  fraud.  But  it  isn't 
altogether  a  fraud.  I  do  like  her — not  as  I  like 
America,  but  as  I  can't  help  liking  any  creature  that 
likes  me — that  has  trusted  me.  Oh !  I  know  what  my 
duty  is !  My  duty  is  to  tell  her  that  I  don't  care  for 
her  as  she  cares  for  me,  to  kill  her  with  that,  and  then 
come  and  tell  America  that  our  engagement  must  be 
off  because  I  have  liked  some  one  else  while  I  was 
loving  her.  But  I  am  not  going  to  do  either.  I  am 
going  away.  "  He  stopped,  and  while  I  still  couldn't 
make  any  reply,  he  went  on :  "  When  I  began,  I 
thought  I  wanted  to  know  what  you  would  say.  But 
now  I  don't.  It  wouldn't  matter  what  you  said.  It 
couldn't  make  it  any  better  if  you  justified  me  at 
every  point,  and  it  couldn't  make  it  worse  if  you  con 
demned  me. " 

He  got  up,  and  began  gathering  his  overcoat  into 
his  arm,  and  letting  it  drop,  and  then  taking  it  up 
again,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  know  what  he  was 
doing,  but  he  went  toward  the  door,  while  I  tried  to 
gasp  out  something.  And  do  you  know  what  it  was 


210  LETTERS    HOME. 

I  gasped  out,  when  it  came  ?  It  was  this  :  that  I  was 
sorry  for  him,  and  that  if  I  had  never  believed  in  him 
before  I  believed  in  him  now ;  and  I  begged  him  to 
tell  Miss  Ralson  what  he  had  told  me,  or  if  he  couldn't, 
to  let  me  tell  her;  for  I  knew  that  she  would  take  it 
in  the  right  way,  she  was  so  large-minded  and  so 
noble  and  good.  I  forgot  how  I  had  always  accused 
him  in  my  own  mind  of  being  a  sneak,  and  then  of 
being  a  traitor,  and  had  suspected  him  of  deserting 
that  Baysley  girl  because  she  was  poor,  and  of  trying 
to  get  Miss  Ralson  because  she  was  rich ;  and  now, 
simply  because  he  had  confessed  the  worst  things 
about  himself  that  a  man  could,  I  was  trying  to  com 
fort  him,  and  encourage  him,  and  make  him  think 
that  it  was  not  such  a  desperate  case,  after  all.  He 
listened  to  me,  in  a  sort  of  daze,  and  then  as  if  he 
had  realized  what  I  was  saying  he  fairly  laughed  in 
my  face,  and  ran  out  of  the  room. 

Now,  what  do  you  say,  mother  ?  Have  I  gone  clear, 
stark,  raving  distracted,  or  is  there  something  in  what 
he  said?  I  suppose  that  nobody  but  a  man  would 
know,  and  yet  I  don't  believe  that  any  one  but  a 
woman  could  judge  him  fairly,  and  that  is  why  my 
principles  are  out  on  the  woodpile  in  the  backyard. 
Don't  you  see  that  if  we  let  men  go  on  at  that  rate, 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    211 

it  would  excuse  every  kind  of  wicked  flirtation,  and 
I  don't  know  but  polygamy  itself?  I  don't  know 
what  the  end  of  it  will  be  or  what  anybody  can  do 
about  it.  I  can't  tell  whether  I  ought  to  let  Miss 
Ralson  know  about  it,  or  just  leave  it  to  fate,  or  na- 
ture?  or  Providence.  It  might  be  the  best  thing  if  he 
did  go  away,  the  best  thing  lor  her  and  for  that 
wretched  Baysley  girl,  not  to  mention  your  own  be 
wildered  daughter. 

FRANCES. 


XXXYI. 

From  W.  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 
NEW  YORK,  Feb.  14,  1902. 
My  dear  Line . 

I  guess  I  am  going  in  for  it;  no  one  ever  knows 
how  the  grippe  is  going  to  end,  but  I  could  tell  you 
how  it  begins.  My  head  is  like  lead,  but  through 
this  density,  the  queerest  little  antic  deliriums  go 
capering  as  nimbly  as  if  it  were  the  finest  ether ;  if  I 
could  note  them  down,  or  remember  them  for  future 
use,  they  would  be  the  weirdest  sort  of  material. 

I  want  to  tell  you  something,  but  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is  long  enough  to  get  it  out.  It  is  something 
about  that  girl  who  secretaries  and  companions  for  the 
Ralsons ;  I  shall  have  it  directly ;  never  mind.  That 
old  Boston  cock  up  in  the  Park,  feeding  the  squirrels, 
where  I  first  saw  him,  near  the  bust  of  Schiller,  had 
something  to  do  with  it.  America  was  not  there  — 
212 


WALLACE    ARDITH    TO    A.    L.    WIBBEBT.        213 

Lord,  how  it  keeps  escaping  me  !     But  I  shall  get  it, 
and  I  shall  keep  on  writing. 

I  should  like  to  make  a  fight  of  it,  everyway,  and 
see  how  long  I  could  beat  the  thing  off.  I  wonder 
if  a  man  could  give  a  thing  of  that  sort  the  worst  of 
it,  if  he  held  on  to  his  courage.  If  my  legs  were 
good  for  it,  I  would  go  out,  and  walk  it  off.  But  my 
confounded  legs  won't  work.  It  is  only  the  upper 
half  of  me  that  seems  to  have  any  sort  of  enterprise. 
I  won't  go  to  bed ;  that  is  too  base. 

Let  me  see  if  I  can't  nail  that  idea.  It  was  about 
getting  an  unfavorable  opinion — no,  not  that,  but 
about  putting  my  case  in  the  hands  of  a  just  enemy  ; 
I  can't  think  what  my  case  was ;  and  the  enemy 
seemed  to  play  me  false — came  round  to  my  side. 
How  curious !  I  can't  get  any  nearer  it  than  that. 
I  have  the  strangest  indifference  about  it  all,  and 
perhaps  that  is  why  I  can't  express  it.  One  torment 
drives  another  out.  I  suppose  hell  is  having  no 
change  of  subject ;  the  damnable  iteration  makes  the 
hellishness.  In  the  last  week  I  have  known  what  this 
infernal  monotony  was ;  but  I  can't  remember  what 
it  was  about. 

I  am  going  to  keep  writing  away.  If  I  pull 
through,  I  can  make  copy  of  it;  if  I  don't, you  can. 


214  LETTERS  HOME. 

What  a  disgusting  pose !  But  there  is  an  awful 
reality  in  it,  too.  I  am  going  to  reach  that  before  I 
quit,  and  then  I  shall  stop,  and  carry  this  out  and 
mail  it.  There  is  a  postal  box  just  round  the  corner  ; 
my  legs  ought  to  do  that  much  for  me.  I  must  keep 
on  foot  till  morning,  and  then  get  an  ambulance  and 
go  to  some  hospital ;  I  won't  be  sick  on  their  hands, 
here ;  that  would  be  too  — 

I  should  like  to  be  at  home,  in  Timber  Creek.  I 
used  to  hate  it  because  it  was  like  a  prison,  and 
I  wanted  to  escape.  Wottoma  seemed  a  metropolis ; 
but  you  must  come  to  New  York  if  you  want  to  see 
what  a  metropolis  is.  I  haven't  begun  my  epic  yet. 
I  haven't  written  to  my  mother,  for  more  than  a  week. 
I  hate  to  write,  for  I  don't  like  her  knowing  that  I 
have  the  grippe.  I  wish  you  — . 

Don't  exploit  me  in  the  Day  till  I  want  the  facts 
to  come  out.  Perhaps  —  I  shall  have  to  stop,  my 
head  hurts  so  — 


XXXVII 

From    Miss    FRANCES     DENNAM    to   MRS.    DENNAM, 

Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  February  15,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

Last  night,  I  told  you  that  I  had  pulled  up  my 
principles  by  the  roots,  and  thrown  them  out  on  the 
woodpile  in  the  backyard,  and  to-night  I  have  to  in 
form  you  that  Miss  Ralson  has  cast  her  proprieties  to 
the  four  winds,  and  we  are  both  luxuriating  in  a 
freedom  from  moral  restraint  which  I  don't  see  any 
end  to. 

She  came  in  a  few  minutes  after  Mr.  Ardith  left, 
yesterday,  and  when  I  told  her  that  he  had  been 
there  she  was  so  angry  with  me  for  not  keeping  him 
that  I  did  not  know  but  she  was  going  to  hit  me. 
She  did  manage  to  control  herself  long  enough  to  let 
me  explain  that  he  had  come  to  see  me  and  not  her, 
215 


216  LETTERS    HOME. 

but  not  much  longer.  I  had  to  tell  her  what  he  had 
said,  and  then  I  never  saw  such  a  passion  as  she  flew 
out  in.  She  wanted  to  know  why  Mr.  Ardith  should 
make  a  confidant  of  me,  and  appeal  to  me  for  my 
opinion  in  a  matter  that  did  not  concern  me;  and 
when  I  made  her  realize  that  I  had  not  asked  for  his 
confidence,  and  I  had  not  given  him  any  opinion,  she 
was  more  furious  than  ever,  and  accused  me  of  un 
justly  blaming  him.  She  said  she  supposed  I  sided 
with  those  miserable  Baysleys,  because  they  were 
poor,  and  that  she  always  knew  I  hated  her.  But 
she  did  not  care,  and  if  the  whole  Baysley  family 
was  at  the  point  of  death,  it  would  not  make  the 
least  difference  to  her.  She  said  that  she  had  seen 
from  the  first  that  I  disliked  Mr.  Ardith  as  much  as 
I  did  her,  and  that  I  had  jumped  at  the  chance  to 
make  him  believe  he  had  been  doing  wrong. 

I  can  stand  a  good  deal,  and  I  had  excused  her 
unreasonableness  to  her  unhappiness,  but  when  it 
came  to  that,  /  flew  out,  too.  Or  rather,  I  flew  in, 
for  you  know  that  when  I  am  mad  I  do  not  say 
much  about  it.  I  suppose  I  got  a  little  white, 
(whity-brown  would  suit  my  complexion  better)  for 
she  looked  scared ;  and  when  I  went  for  my  jacket 
and  hat  and  started  toward  the  door,  without  saying 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     217 

a  single  word,  she  began  trying  to  make  some  sort  of 
apology.  She  was  so  incoherent,  that  if  I  had  not 
been  mad  through  and  through  I  should  have  wanted 
to  laugh,  and  I  did  pity  her  enough  to  cry.  She  fol 
lowed  me  into  the  vestibule,  and  asked  me  what  I 
was  doing,  and  where  I  was  going;  and  when  I 
would  not  answer,  she  called  after  me,  "  Go,  then ! " 
and  burst  out  sobbing. 

But  I  shut  myself  out,  and  I  did  not  have  a  very 
good  night.  The  fact  is,  I  do  love  that  family,  if 
they  are  rich ;  and  my  heart  ached  for  the  poor  soul, 
though  she  had  said  such  insulting  things  that  I  could 
not  bear  it.  Still,  I  knew  I  ought  to  have  considered 
that  as  she  could  not  hurt  Mr.  Ardith  for  the  mischief 
he  had  made,  she  had  to  hurt  me.  I  took  it  out  of 
him  for  the  mischief  he  had  made  in  some  one-sided 
dialogues  of  the  sort  we  hold  with  people  we  are  ex 
cited  about,  and  they  have  not  a  word  to  say  for 
themselves,  and  I  made  up  for  my  mealy-mouthed- 
ness  with  him  in  the  afternoon.  I  spoke  daggers,  I 
can  tell  you,  but  I  retracted  every  single  dagger  when 
Miss  Ralson  came  up  in  her  automobile  this  morn 
ing  to  get  me  to  go  over  to  the  Baysleys'  with  her. 
Old  Mr.  Baysley  had  just  been  at  the  Walhondia 
to  say  that  Mr.  Ardith  was  down  with  the  grippe,  the 


218  LETTERS    HOME. 

worst  way,  and  that  he  was  out  of  his  head,  and  they 
did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  seemed  to  have  been 
up  all  night,  when  Mr.  Baysley  found  him  in  his 
room  at  breakfast  time,  and  he  had  a  letter  before 
him  on  the  table,  and  was  trying  to  write,  They  got 
a  doctor  who  found  Mr.  Ardith  in  a  high  fever,  and 
got  him  to  bed  somehow ;  and  Mr.  Baysley  seemed  to 
have  left  pretty  much  the  whole  family  watching 
with  him,  while  he  came  to  tell  the  Ralsons.  Mr. 
Ralson  is  away  at  Washington,  but  America  saw  Mr. 
Baysley,  and  she  telephoned  their  own  doctor  to  send 
a  trained  nurse  to  the  Baysleys'  instantly,  and  we 
found  the  nurse  there  taking  possession  when  we 
arrived. 

America  wanted  to  go  right  in  to  see  Mr.  Ardith, 
but  the  nurse  said  she  had  better  not,  and  we  had  to 
stay  in  the  parlor  at  the  other  end  of  the  flat,  and 
hear  his  crazy  talk  coming  through  the  corrider.  The 
nurse  would  not  say  whether  he  was  very  bad  or  not, 
she  said  the  case  was  one  of  the  sudden  kind,  when 
the  patients  are  delirious,  and  that  she  would  rather 
we  would  talk  with  the  doctor  about  it.  She  was  so 
non-committal  that  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had  never 
held  my  tongue  in  my  life,  and  she  scared  us  a  great 
deal  worse  than  if  she  had  told  us  he  was  dying. 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    219 

You  remember  how  it  was  at  Lake  Ridge,  when 
everybody  had  the  grippe ;  some  of  them  tried  to  kill 
themselves,  and  I  guess  Mr.  Ardith  is  almost  like 
that.  The  nurse  would  not  stay  with  us  a  moment, 
hardly,  but  went  right  back  to  him,  and  shut  his 
room  door;  she  seemed  to  think  he  ought  to  have 
two  nurses ;  but  what  they  would  do  in  that  little  bit 
of  a  flat  I  don't  see. 

While  we  sat  there  waiting  for  the  Ralsons'  doctor 
to  come,  (  America  had  asked  him  to,  when  she  tele 
phoned  for  the  nurse,)  the  youngest  Baysley  girl 
came  in  with  the  unfinished  letter  that  they  had 
found  Mr.  Ardith  writing  at  in  the  morning,  and 
gave  it  to  Miss  Ralson.  She  looked  awfully  pale, 
and  so  weak  she  could  hardly  put  one  foot  before  the 
other,  and  I  fairly  hated  America  Ralson.  But  I 
know  there  was  no  sense  in  that,  for  if  he  did  not 
care  for  the  girl —  Oh,  I  have  got  so  mixed  up,  I 
don't  know  what  to  think,  and  sometimes  I  feel  as  if 
there  was  no  way  to  settle  it  but  for  Mr.  Ardith — 
But  that  wouldn't  settle  the  eternal  right  and  wrong 
of  it,  either.  The  wretched  child  coughed  so  when 
she  tried  to  speak  to  America,  that  she  could  not 
really  say  anything  coherent,  and  she  handed 
America  the  letter  without  explaining,  and  went  out 


220  LETTERS    HOME. 

of  the  room  without  hardly  looking  at  us ;  but  I  knew 
what  was  in  her  heart. 

Nobody  could  have  explained  the  letter :  it  was  a 
crazy  whirl  of  words,  almost  from  the  beginning,  and 
at  the  end  it  went  off  into  mere  scribble.  But  we 
made  out  that  why  they  wanted  us  to  see  it  was  that 
in  one  place  he  spoke  of  his  mother,  and  wished  he 
was  at  home.  The  letter  was  to  some  friend  of  his 
in  the  Iowa  town  where  the  Ralsons  used  to  live,  and 
America  said  she  knew  where  his  mother  lived,  and 
she  would  telegraph  her  at  once.  She  had  been  per 
fectly  cowed  ever  since  she  came  into  the  apartment, 
and  the  Baysley  girl's  bringing  her  the  letter,  and 
making  her  feel  how  she  hated  her  had  been  the  last 
touch.  But  as  soon  as  she  could  find  something  to 
do,  she  braced  right  up,  and  it  didn't  make  any 
difference  whether  it  was  the  wrong  thing.  I  had 
the  greatest  time  to  get  her  to  wait  till  she  had  seen 
her  own  doctor  and  got  his  opinion  of  Mr.  Ardith 
before  she  went  out  to  telegraph  his  mother ;  but  I 
did  manage  it,  and  when  the  doctor  came  at  last,  I 
persuaded  her  to  let  me  speak  with  him  first. 

It  was  a  good  thing  I  did,  and  got  him  to  modify 
what  he  said,  for  he  told  me  it  was  the  worst  kind  of 
an  attack,  and  there  were  nine  chances  out  of  ten 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MBS.  DENNAM.    221 

against  Mr.  Ardith.  He  said  it  was  useless  to  tele 
graph  his  mother,  at  least  till  later  in  the  day,  for  if 
he  did  not  improve  she  could  not  get  here  in  time, 
and  if  he  did,  we  could  send  some  encouraging 
message.  I  prepared  him  for  America,  with  some 
hint  of  how  the  land  lay,  so  that  when  he  came  in  to 
see  her,  he  fibbed  nobly.  He  said  there  was  abso 
lutely  nothing  we  could  do  there,  and  we  had  better 
go  away.  He  promised  to  stay  himself,  and  laughed 
at  her  anxiety.  The  nurse  was  the  very  best  on  his 
list,  and  besides — here  he  made  his  little  break — the 
people  of  the  house  seemed  to  be  devotedly  attached 
to  the  young  man,  and  would  give  any  help  that  the 
nurse  could  need.  We  could  come  again  when  his 
fever  had  been  subdued,  but  until  it  was,  it  would  be 
worse  than  useless  for  his  friends  to  see  him.  We 
could  do  no  good ;  we  could  only  do  harm. 

I  could  see  America  wince  when  he  praised  the 
devotion  of  the  Baysleys,  and  I  knew  what  a  pang  it 
was  for  her  to  think  that  other  girl  could  be  there 
with  him  and  do  things  for  him,  and  she  could  not. 
Don't  you  think  it  was  rather  cruel  yourself,  mother  ? 
I  changed  all  round,  anyway,  and  pitied  her  as  much 
as  1  had  pitied  the  Baysley  girl  before ;  for  whatever 
Mr.  Ardith  has  done,  America  Ralson  has  done 


222  LETTERS     HOME. 

nothing  wrong.  She  has  as  good  a  right  to  care  for 
him  as  if  there  were  no  other  girl  in  the  world,  and 
she  hasn't  done  the  Baysley  girl  any  more  harm  than 
the  Baysley  girl  has  done  her.  In  fact  they  are  both 
of  them  perfectly  guiltless  toward  each  other.  It  has 
taken  me  a  good  while  to  reason  this  out,  but  now  I 
have  got  hold  of  the  truth  of  the  matter,  I  am  going  to 
hang  on  to  it  whether  Mr.  Ardith  lives  or  dies.  His 
living  or  dying  has  got  nothing  to  do  with  the  justice 
of  the  case ;  and  the  only  thing  that  troubles  me  now 
is  that  those  two  innocent  creatures  should  have  such 
hate  for  each  other  in  their  hearts  on  his  account. 
But  that  is  perfectly  inevitable,  and  I  suppose  that 
women  will  go  on  hating  each  other  as  they  do  as 
long  as  there  is  a  man  left  to  make  trouble  between 
them.  When  I  realize  that,  I  could  almost  wish 
there  were  no  men,  and  I  have  to  remember  father, 
and  what  an  angel  he  was,  before  I  can  reconcile 
myself.  I  do  not  know  that  men  are  so  much  to 
blame ;  they  are  just  weak,  and  pulled  about  this  way 
and  that  wherever  they  see  a  pretty  face.  Perhaps 
there  ought  not  to  be  any  pretty  faces ;  if  we  were  all 
plain,  like  me,  I  dare  say  the  men  would  be  all  right. 
Not  that  I  think  Mr.  Ardith  has  meant  to  do  wrong : 
I  want  to  keep  that  in  mind,  while  I  realize  that  Miss 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAN  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.      223 

Ralson  is  as  good  as  the  Baysley  girl,  and  that  just 
now  she  is  not  as  happy,  and  not  as  fortunate,  with 
all  the  money  of  the  Cheese  and  Churn  Trust  behind 
her. 

I  am  writing  this  at  the  hotel,  and  America  is  in 
her  room  writing  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ardith's  mother,  to 
be  sent  as  soon  as  the  doctor  says  she  can  be  told  of 
his  sickness.  Every  now  and  then  she  runs  in  to  ask 
me  whether  she  had  better  say  this  or  that,  or  leave 
so  and  so  out.  My  heart  aches  for  her ;  but  when 
she  puts  her  tragedy  face  in  to  ask  whether  I  spell 
grippe  with  one  p  and  a  final  e,  I  want  to  laugh. 
Your  affectionate  daughter, 

FRANCES. 


XXXVIII. 

From  Miss  AMERICA  RALSON  to  MRS.  REBECCA  ARDITII, 

Timber  Creek,  Iowa. 
THE  WALHONDIA,  NEW  YORK,  February  the  Fifteenth, 

Nineteen  Hundred  and  Two. 
Dear  Mrs.  Ardith: 

I  hope  you  will  not  be  alarmed  at  getting  this  let 
ter  from  a  total  stranger  to  you  personally ;  though 
you  may  have  heard  your  son  speak  of  our  family  in 
Wottoma.  The  doctor  wishes  me  to  tell  you  that  he 
is  recovering  from  a  pretty  severe  attack  of  the  grippe, 
and  will  be  about  again  in  a  few  days.  He  is  in  good 
hands,  and  is  having  the  best  of  medical  care,  and  a 
trained  nurse ;  so  that  you  need  feel  no  anxiety.  The 
doctor  did  not  want  me  to  write  to  you,  but  I  thought 
that  if  there  was  an  interruption  of  his  letters  you 
would  be  uneasy,  and  I  shall  send  this  without  con 
sulting  him,  and  keep  you  posted  right  along. 

I  do  not  know  whether  Mr.  Ardith  has  told  you 
224 


MISS    RALSON    TO   MRS.    ARDITH.  225 

how  much  he  has  let  us  see  him  this  winter.  It  has 
been  very  pleasant  for  us,  especially  for  my  mother, 
who  enjoys  talking  with  him  about  Wottoma;  and 
my  father  thinks  there  is  no  one  like  him.  He  is 
away  from  home,  at  Washington,  just  now,  or  he 
would  join  my  mother  and  myself  in  best  regards. 
Yours  sincerely, 

AMERICA  RALSON. 

P.  S.  I  will  write  again  to-morrow,  and  let  you 
know  how  Mr.  Ardith  is.  I  suppose  he  has  told  you 
that  he  has  rooms  with  a  family  from  your  place. 
They  are  very  good  people,  and  have  every  reason  to 
be  kind  to  him,  for  he  helped  them  in  their  own  sick 
ness,  and  I  am  afraid  he  has  taken  the  disease  from 
them.  But  that  is  not  their  fault,  though  I  think 
that  as  soon  as  he  can  be  moved,  he  ought  to  be  in 
more  comfortable  quarters.  I  do  not  mean  that  his 
present  room  is  uncomfortable.  It  is  at  the  back,  and 
has  the  sun,  and  it  is  very  quiet,  but  the  flat  is  small, 
and  they  are  a  good  deal  crowded,  especially  as  some 
of  them  are  not  quite  well  themselves  yet. 


XXXIX. 

From    Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.    DENNAM, 

Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  February  19,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

I  have  been  so  busy,  the  last  three  or  four  days, 
flying  back  and  forth  between  the  Ralsons  and  the 
Baysleys,  that  I  have  scarcely  had  time  to  write ;  and 
as  I  had  nothing  decided  to  write  about  Mr.  Ardith, 
I  thought  I  would  wait.  I  knew,  from  your  answer 
to  my  last,  how  much  you  were  interested,  and  now  I 
am  glad  to  report  that  he  is  so  much  better  as  to  be 
almost  out  of  danger.  There  is  always  danger  that 
pneumonia  may  set  in,  the  doctor  says,  but  as  yet  it 
has  not.  Day  before  yesterday  they  nearly  lost  hope, 
and  when  I  found  it  out,  I  just  wouldn't  hold  in  any 
longer.  America  was  fairly  frantic  about  him,  in 
spite  of  the  lies  we  had  kept  telling  her,  but  when  I 
told  her  the  truth,  it  steadied  her  in  the  most  wonder- 
226 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     227 

f  ul  way.  She  insisted  on  going  up  and  staying  under 
the  same  roof  with  him,  and  helping  do  what  could 
be  done  for  him  outside  of  his  room.  Her  idea 
seemed  to  be  to  do  as  much  for  him  as  any  of  the 
Baysleys  were  doing,  and  not  to  let  that  other  girl 
have  it  to  say  or  to  think  that  she  had  failed  in  any 
thing  ;  which  was  perfectly  natural.  But  really  there 
was  nothing  that  either  of  them  could  do.  In  fact 
it  needed  a  man,  and  the  doctor  substituted  a  man 
nurse  for  the  woman.  Mr.  Ardith  was  so  delirious  at 
one  time  that  he  had  to  be  held,  to  keep  him  from 
getting  out  of  the  window.  But  now  he  is  in  his 
right  mind,  and  they  are  not  afraid  of  anything  but 
pneumonia. 

I  have  had  to  stay  here  most  of  the  time  with  Mrs. 
Ralson,  and  I  have  slept  here  the  whole  week.  Mr. 
Ralson  is  still  at  Washington.  There  is  some  trouble 
about  the  Trust,  and  he  is  there  on  that  account;  I 
guess  he  is  afraid  of  the  government  prosecuting  him, 
or  something  of  that  kind ;  I  don't  know  exactly.  At 
any  rate  there  he  is,  and  we  don't  know  just  when  he 
will  be  back. 

FRANCES. 

P.  S.  Miss  Ralson  had  put  a  postscript  to  her  let 
ter  to  Mrs.  Ardith,  kind  of  blaming  the  Baysleys  for 


228  LETTEKS  HOME. 

Mr.  Ardith's  having  got  the  grippe  from  them ;  but  I 
persuaded  her  to  leave  it  out,  and  write  her  letter  over. 
It  was  just  as  well,  for  it  seems  that  Mrs.  Ardith  is 
having  some  trouble  with  her  eyes,  and  had  to  take 
the  letter  to  Mr.  Baysley's  brother,  who  is  a  minister 
out  there,  to  have  it  read.  He  answered  it  for  her 
and  I  don't  know  what  he  would  have  thought  if  he 
had  had  to  answer  that  postscript.  But  now,  that 
many  of  the  pieces  have  been  saved. 


XL. 

From   Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.    DENNAM, 

Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  February  W,  1902. 
Dear  Mother: 

All  continues  to  go  well  with  Mr.  Ardith,  who  isn't 
exactly  bounding  about  yet,  but  is  not  so  much  in 
danger  of  pneumonia  as  the  doctor  thought.  At  any 
rate,  Miss  Ralson  has  felt  it  safe  to  come  back  here 
for  the  night,  and  I  have  got  her  in  her  room,  making 
her  write  to  her  father,  and  tell  him  of  her  engage 
ment.  They  take  each  other  so  casually  that  she 
thought  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  she  waited  till  he 
got  home.  But  I  sat  down  on  that  good  and  hard, 
and  she  has  listened  to  reason.  She  is  not  always  as 
biddable  as  I  should  like,  and  I  have  just  found  out, 
by  a  letter  that  came  from  Timber  Creek  to-day,  that 
she  has  not  kept  a  pro  ;:ise  she  made  me  not  to  write 
anything  to  Mrs.  Ardith  without  showing  it  to  me.  I 
229 


23O  LETTERS    HOME. 

do  not  blame  her  altogether,  for  when  she  found  that 
Mr.  Ardith  was  in  danger,  she  felt  the  responsibility 
of  not  writing  so  awfully  that  she  wrote,  and  told  his 
mother  the  truth. 

The  letter  that  came  back  was  not  from  her,  but 
from  that  Rev.  Mr.  Baysley  again.  He  said  that  at 
first  he  had  hesitated  about  reading  Miss  Ralson's 
letter  to  Mrs.  Ardith,  because  she  had  not  only  the 
eye-trouble  which  prevented  her  from  reading  it  her 
self,  but  was  otherwise  not  able  to  take  the  journey 
to  New  York.  Finally,  he  had  decided  to  read  it  to 
her,  and  he  said  that  he  was  glad,  for  she  had  taken 
it  just  as  he  could  have  wished.  She  sent  messages 
to  her  son,  to  be  given  him  as  soon  as  he  was  in  his 
right  mind,  telling  him  that  she  knew  he  would  have 
patience  with  her  not  coming,  and  for  him  not  to 
worry  about  her,  for  she  would  have  courage  for  him. 
I  thought  when  I  was  reading  this  word  from  her  that 
if  he  was  the  kind  of  son  that  such  a  kind  of  mother 
could  talk  so  to,  he  could  not  have  acted  heartlessly 
with  that  poor  Baysley  girl,  and  I  have  felt  better 
about  him  than  I  did  before. 

But,  mother,  I  wonder  why  people  do  not  always 
come  out  with  the  whole  truth  at  once  when  there  is 
any  kind  of  trouble  or  danger.  The  first  thing  when 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     231 

we  knew  that  Mr.  Ardith  was  very  sick,  we  wanted 
to  keep  it  from  one  another,  but  as  soon  as  we  owned 
the  facts,  Miss  Ralson  took  courage  from  the  instant 
she  ought  to  have  despaired,  and  when  she  told  his 
mother  how  bad  he  was,  his  mother  faced  the  chance 
of  never  seeing  him  again  as  bravely  as  if  she  could 
have  come  on  here  and  saved  him.  I  hope  that  if 
there  is  ever  anything  seriously  the  matter  with  you 
or  Lizzie,  you  won't  spare  me  a  moment,  to  see  how 
the  cat  is  going  to  jump ;  and  if  I  get  the  grippe,  I 
promise  to  let  you  hear  of  my  very  worst  symptoms 
from  the  start. 

I  only  wish  I  could  tell  you  what  a  nice,  dignified 
letter  that  Mr.  Baysley  wrote  to  America  for  Mr.  Ar- 
dith's  mother.  He  is  nothing  but  a  poor  country 
Baptist  minister,  and  probably  gets  about  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  and  preaches  the  dullest  kind  of  ser 
mons.  But  when  it  came  to  being  a  ministering 
angel,  he  was  there  with  the  goods,  as  America  would 
say;  and  I  just  know  how  he  must  have  talked  to  that 
poor  mother,  and  cheered  her  up.  There  wasn't  any 
thing  pious  in  his  letter;  it  was  humble  Christianity 
all  through,  and  it  was  so  delicate  and  refined  in  feel 
ing.  You  lose  your  bearings  a  good  deal  in  New 
York,  with  the  talk  about  classes,  upper  and  lower  and 


232  LETTERS    HOME. 

middle,  and  in  some  of  the  newspapers  that  try  to  be 
"smart"  you  read  things  about  common  Americans 
that  make  your  blood  boil,  if  you  haven't  lost  your 
bearings.  But  a  letter  like  that  country  minister's 
out  there  in  Iowa,  makes  me  glad  that  I  am  a  common 
American,  and  I  believe  the  commoner  we  are  the 
better  we  are.  Those  other  Baysleys  are  as  common 
as  they  can  be,  but  they  have  behaved  like  saints ; 
perhaps  the  saints  are  common ;  and  what  makes  me 
love  these  Ralsons  is  that  they  are  just  as  common  as 
the  Baysleys,  in  spite  of  their  money,  and  always  will 
be  whether  they  get  into  the  Four  Hundred  or  not. 
May  be  the  Four  Hundred  themselves  would  be 
common  if  you  boiled  them  down.  But  that  doesn't 
personally  matter  so  much  any  more,  for  I  don't  be 
lieve  Miss  Ralson — 

She  has  just  been  in  here  to  show  me  her  letter  to 
her  father,  and  she  has  come  very  near  making  me 
change  my  mind  about  her.  We  decided  on  some 
changes  in  the  letter  and  then  we  sat  talking,  and 
suddenly  she  came  out  with  something  that  happened 
the  other  night  at  the  Baysleys'.  She  was  sitting  up 
after  the  family  had  gone  to  bed,  in  hopes  that  she 
might  be  asked  to  do  something  for  Mr.  Ardith  and 
when  she  heard  his  muffled  raving  from  the  other  end 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.     233 

of  the  flat,  she  could  not  bear  it,  and  crept  down  the 
corridor  to  his  room,  to  try  and  make  out  what  he 
was  saying.  The  light  in  the  corridor  had  been  turned 
out,  and  it  was  so  dark  that  she  had  to  feel  her  way 
to  the  door,  but  she  found  it,  and  crouched  on  the 
floor  there.  She  heard  her  own  name,  and  Essie 
Baysley's,  and  he  seemed  to  be  talking  to  that  friend 
of  his  in  Wottoma  that  he  was  writing  to  when  he 
was  taken  sick ;  but  it  was  just  a  jumble  of  repetitions, 
and  she  could  not  make  anything  out  of  it.  She  was 
so  anxious  and  absorbed  that  she  did  not  notice  at 
first  something  like  some  one  catching  their  breath, 
very  near  her  in  the  dark,  but  it  must  have  come 
louder ;  and  then  she  put  out  her  hand.  "  And  what 
do  you  think  it  was  ? "  she  fairly  hissed  out.  "  It  was 
that  Baysley  girl !  I  felt  as  if  I  had  touched  a  snake. 
She  was  there  listening  !  " 

She  seemed  to  expect  that  I  would  be  horrified  and 
disgusted,  but  at  first  I  could  hardly  help  thinking 
that  she  must  be  joking.  When  I  realized  that  she 
was  not,  I  just  hopped  on  her.  "  Why,  what  in  the 
world  were  you  doing  ?  Hadn't  she  as  much  right  to, 
listen  as  you  had  ?  If  that  poor  thing  had  left  her 
own  sick-bed,  to  come  and  hear  his  ravings,  in  the 
hopes  of  hearing  something  that  would  give  her  a  little 


234  LETTERS  HOME. 

comfort  or  a  little  strength  to  bear  her  disappoint 
ment,  I  don't  see  why  you  should  call  her  a  snake  for 
it.  She  was  no  more  snake  than  you  were,  and  there 
is  just  one  thing  that  keeps  me  from  hating  you,  and 
that  is  that  you've  been  up  so  much,  and  are  so  crazy 
for  want  of  sleep  that  you  don't  know  what  you're 
saying.  "  I  gave  it  to  her  good  and  hot,  and  she 
seemed  perfectly  dumbfounded.  She  turned  white, 
and  then  red,  and  then  she  burst  out,  "  I  will  never 
speak  to  you  again ! "  and  flung  into  her  own  room, 
and  slammed  the  door  after  her. 

I  thought  I  knew  just  how  much  that  meant,  and  I 
did  not  have  to  wait  a  great  while,  hearing  her  sob 
inside  there,  before  she  flung  back  again,  and  came 
and  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  and  clutched  me 
round  the  waist,  and  pulled  me  down  to  her.  "  I  am 
crazy,  and  I  don't  know  what  I'm  saying !  There  !  " 
she  shouted,  and  she  looked  so  much  like  a  big,  un 
happy  child,  that  I  could  not  help  bending  over  and 
kissing  her,  though  you  know  I  am  not  much  on  the 
kiss.  She  begged  my  pardon,  and  I  said  she  had  not 
done  me  any  harm,  and  then  she  wanted  to  know  what 
she  should  do  to  make  that  Baysley  girl  forgive  her, 
and  I  tried  to  find  out  whether  she  had  said  anything 
to  the  poor  child  or  not.  She  was  so  ashamed  that 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    235 

she  would  hardly  confess,  but  it  came  out  that  she 
had  said,  "What  are  you  eavesdropping  here,  for?" 
and  the  girl  had  burst  out  crying,  and  broken  away 
from  her,  and  run  back  to  her  room  ;  and  that  was  all. 
You  will  think  it  was  quite  enough,  and  so  do  I ; 
but  what  would  you  have  advised  Miss  Ralson  to  do  ? 
She  wanted  to  know  whether  she  ought  not  to  give 
Mr.  Ardith  up  to  that  girl  as  soon  as  he  was  well 
enough  for  the  sacrifice ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
this  was  the  very  last  thing  she  ought  to  do,  and  that 
was  what  I  said.  I  told  her  that  it  was  for  Mr.  Ardith 
to  give  himself,  or  keep  himself,  and  that  her  being 
willing  to  part  with  him  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case.  I  talked  her  quiet  at 
last,  and  she  decided  that  all  she  could  do  was  to  beg 
the  girl's  pardon,  and  confess  that  she  was  sorry  and 
ashamed.  She  has  gone  off  to  try  and  get  some  sleep, 
and  in  the  morning  she  is  going  up  to  the  Baysley's 
to  offer  reparation.  The  good  thing  about  her  is  that 
she  can  feel  for  that  child,  and  that  if  she  could,  she 
would  hate  herself  because  he  likes  her  the  best.  But 
is  there  any  real  harm  in  his  doing  that  ?  He  is  cruel 
ly  to  blame  for  letting  that  poor  thing  care  for  him, 
and  yet  perhaps  he  could  not  have  prevented  it,  and 
he  may  have  been  very  much  tempted.  I  have  never 


236  LETTERS  HOME. 

seen  the  girl  yet  that  could  make  me  lose  my  head, 
but  I  see  more  and  more  that  men  are  different.  You 
ought  to  be  glad  that  I  am  not 

Your  affectionate  son, 

FRANCES. 


XLI. 

From  MR.  OTIS  BINNING  to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 

Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  February  23,  1902. 
Dear  Margaret: 

The  Prince  of  Prussia  has  gone  off  to  the  West, 
and  given  us  a  little  breathing-space,  and  I  am  able 
to  detach  my  thoughts  from  him,  and  devote  them  to 
this  sort  of  one-sided  communion  with  you.  Do  you 
know,  I  am  becoming  really  fond  of  it,  and  should 
miss  it  if  you  happened  to  telegraph  me  some  fine 
day  that  you  were  rather  tired  of  my  letters?  I 
haven't  written  such  long  ones  since  my  first  year  at 
Harvard,  when  I  "  corresponded  "  with  a  young  lady 
of  this  city,  about  whom  I  was  just  then  very  much 
in  earnest.  I  have  not  the  least  notion  what  became 
of  her,  except  that  she  married  some  one  beside  my 
self,  and  is  perhaps  no  longer  extant.  I  do  not  account 
237 


238  LETTERS     HOME. 

for  this  conjecture  except  from  the  feeling  that  it  is 
graceful  and  becoming  for  our  first  loves  to  die ;  I 
should  hate  meeting  mine,  in  this  world,  of  all  things. 
The  literary  superstition  concerning  us  elderly  fel 
lows  is  (or  used  to  be  in  the  good  old  Thackeray 
times,)  that  we  are  always  thinking  of  our  first  loves, 
and  are  going  about  rather  droopingly  on  account  of 
them.  My  own  experience  is  that  we  are  doing  noth 
ing  of  the  kind.  We  are  the  only  cheerful  people  in 
the  world,  and  so  long  as  we  keep  single,  we  are 
impartially  impassioned  of  almost  every  interesting 
type  of  woman  that  we  meet.  I.  find  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  bestowing  my  affections  right  and  left, 
and  I  enjoy  a  delightful  surprise  in  finding  them  hold 
out  in  spite  of  my  lavish  use  of  them.  If  I  totted  up 
the  number  of  my  loves,  young  and  old,  since  J  came 
here  early  in  December,  Leperello's  list  would  be 
nothing  to  it.  And  they  are  such  innocent  infatua 
tions  !  As  you  must  own,  they  certainly  do  not 
interfere  with  my  devotion  to  you,  in  that  friendship 
which  constitutes  us  the  mirror  of  brothers-and-sisters- 
in-law,  and  I  know  you  will  not  mind  my  being  very 
much  absorbed  just  now  in  Miss  Ralson's  secretary. 
In  fact,  the  absorption  is  quite  in  your  interest,  and 
involves  the  hope  of  surprising  some  further  facts  of 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.    239 

the  little  romance  in  which  I  seem  to  have  interested 
you  so  much  beyond  its  merits  or  mine. 

I  do  not  know  why  I  should  have  fancied,  after  I 
parted  with  my  young  Mr.  Ardith  the  last  time  I  saw 
him  in  the  Park,  that  he  might  apply  my  counsel  to 
an  interview  with  Miss  Dennam,  on  his  way  home  to 
begin  having  the  grippe.  He  has  been  having  it  ever 
since,  in  a  form  that  at  first  alarmed  his  friends  for 
him,  though  now  he  is  out  of  danger.  I  understand, 
by  no  means  so  fully  as  I  should  like,  that  the  glowing 
daughter  of  the  Trust  has  seen  that  he  wanted  for 
nothing,  in  his  sufferings,  and  I  have  found  her  away 
from  home  in  both  of  the  calls  I  have  made  at  the 
Walhondia.  Whether  she  was  beside  his  couch  or 
not,  on  these  occasions,  I  cannot  say,  but  for  the  sake 
of  the  old-fashioned  fiction  in  which  the  heroines  were 
always  nursing  their  loves  through  critical  sicknesses, 
tec  us  hope  so,  Margaret.  Her  getting  the  grippe 
herself  is  something  we  would  gladly  have  allowed  in 
such  a  case. 

Her  absence  has  left  me  the  freer  opportunity  for 
tne  employment  of  any  subtlety  I  may  possess  in  the 
study  of  her  lieutenant,  in  whom  I  have  joyfully  di 
vined  a  belated  and  dislocated  Puritan.  It  has  been 
very  interesting  to  find  what  we  call  the  New  England 


240  LETTERS  HOME. 

conscience  coming  from  Western  New  York,  but  that 
anxious  and  righteous  spirit  is  always  in  the  world, 
and  owns  no  time  or  clime  exclusively.  The  sense  of 
personal  responsibility  for  evil  in  one's  self  and  in 
others  is  as  rife  in  every  religion — and  irreligion  for 
that  matter — as  it  was  in  Massachusetts  Bay  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  I  will  confess  a  malign  pleas 
ure  which  I  have  taken  in  teasing  it  in  Miss  Dennam. 
To  indulge  this,  I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  tell  her  of 
my  last  meeting  with  young  Ardith,  and  of  his  strange 
problem,  and  I  have  admired  the  struggle  in  her  trans 
parent  soul  with  the  question  whether  it  was  quite 
truthful  to  forbear  owning  that  she  knew  of  it  already. 
It  was  a  spectacle  the  more  interesting  because  of  the 
humor  which  qualified  her  scruple,  and  enabled  her  to 
experience  the  ordeal  objectively,  as  it  were.  This 
gave  it  the  quaintness,  which  is  perhaps  the  note  of 
her  whole  personality,  and  which  I  despair  of  making 
you  feel. 

Though  she  could  not  hide  the  fact,  she  did  hide 
the  correlated  facts,  and  I  can  only  surmise  a  tragedy 
lurking  below  her  silence.  I  am  afraid  there  is  some 
thing  worse  than  the  grippe  in  Mr.  Ardith's  case. 
Just  for  the  dramatic  interest,  wouldn't  you  like  to 
imagine  his  playing  some  sort  of  double  part,  with 


MB.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.  241 

that  single  selfishness  which  is  the  unique  force  of 
duplicity  ?  I  hinted  at  some  such  mystery,  but  it  was 
not  intimated  to  me  in  return  that  I  was  right.  It  was 
there  that  my  hermit  thrush  became  a  sphinx,  and  re 
fused  to  read  the  riddle  she  had  not  asked.  That  is 
the  reason  I  cannot  be  more  explicit  with  you  at 
present,  and  must  leave  you  at  such  a  poignant  mo 
ment  of  the  story,  which  I  hope  is  to  be  continued. 
If  you  suffer,  remember  that  I  suffer  with  you. 
Yours  affectionately, 

OTIS. 


XLII. 

From  ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY  to  REV.  WILLIAM  BAYSLEY 
Timber  Creek. 

N.  Y.  Feb.  23,  1903. 
Lr  Bro  : 

Yrs.  of  Friday  to  hand.  Would  say  that  young 
Ardith  is  out  of  danger.  He  ought  to  be,  with  the 
care  he  has  had  from  all  hands,  including  two  doctors, 
man  nurse  and  our  whole  family,  up  with  him  day 
and  night  most  of  the  time.  You  can  tell  his  mother 
not  to  worry ;  he  is  getting  along  first  rate. 

I  guess  from  this  out  we  can  do  any  worrying  our 
selves  that  there  is  any  call  for.  There  has  been 
pretty  curious  goings  on  here  since  that  he  took  to 
his  bed,  and  unless  I  am  a  good  deal  mistaken  some 
body  has  got  to  pay  for  it.  Looks  now,  when  he  was 
fooling  with  Essie,  like  he  had  somebody  else  on  the 
hook  at  the  same  time.  I  don't  want  to  mention  any 
names,  yet,  but  you  mustn't  be  surprised  if  some 
242 


ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY  TO  REV.  WM.  BAYSLEY.   243 

things  come  out  that  wont  show  that  fellow  in  the 
best  of  lights.  I  am  not  blaming  anybody  but  him, 
and  I  hain't  blamed  him  to  his  face,  for  he  ain't  strong 
enough  to  stand  it.  But  if  he  thinks  he  can  make  a 
poor  girl  believe  he's  engaged  to  her,  and  at  the  same 
time  get  engaged  to  a  rich  girl,  he  is  mistaken.  That 
is  about  the  way  the  land  lays,  and  it  don't  seem  to 
mother  and  I  that  it  looks  well  for  young  A.  I  am 
not  saying  when  we  were  all  down  with  the  grippe, 
here,  but  what  he  seemed  to  act  the  friend.  He  helped 
about  the  house  like  a  good  fellow,  and  when  there 
was  nobody  around  but  Ess,  he  lent  a  hand  at  every 
thing  going.  But  the  question  is  whether  he  done  it 
for  us,  or  done  it  for  himself,  or  whether  he  was  not 
just  trying  to  have  a  good  time  as  it  went  along. 

Old  Ralson's  girl  seems  to  think  he  belongs  to  her, 
somehow,  and  she  has  been  here  ordering  round  as  if 
she  owned  things.  Ess  and  her  come  into  collision 
one  night  when  they  were  both  hanging  round  out 
side  his  door,  and  America  Ralson  said  things  to  Ess 
that  I  wont  let  any  one  say  to  a  daughter  of  mine,  I 
don't  care  who  she  is,  or  what  her  father  is.  He  may 
own  the  Cheese  and  Churn  Trust,  but  he  don't  own 
me.  We  would  not  found  out  anything  about  it  if 
mother  had  not  heard  Ess  crying  when  she  got  back 


244  LETTERS    HOME. 

to  her  room,  and  went  in  and  just  made  her  say  what 
'the  matter  was.  I  tell  you  I  feel  pretty  mad,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  let  myself  be  imposed  on  if  T  am  a 
Christian. 

So  I  think  you  can  let  up  a  little  on  the  consolation 
with  Mrs.  Ardith  till  we  see  how  this  thing  is  going 
to  come  out.  He  has  got  to  do  the  right  thing  by 
Essie,  or  I  will  know  the  reason  why.  No  more  at 
present,  but  I  thought  I  would  just  give  you  a  hint. 

Will  write  you  again    when  I  have    had   my  talk 
with  Ardith.    With  our  united  love  to  your  family, 
Yr  aff.  bro. 

ABNER. 


XLIII 

From  MRS.  ABNER  J.  BAYSLEY,  to  MRS.  WM.  BAYSLEY, 

Timber  Creek. 

NEW  YORK,  February  &£,  1902. 
Dear  Sister: 

Father  has  sent  off  a  letter  to  William  that  I  do  not 
know  as  I  feel  exactly  right  about.  You  know  how 
all  up  or  all  down  he  is,  and  he  never  sees  anything 
but  what  is  either  black  as  night  or  bright  as  the 
noonday.  I  have  talked  with  Essie  more  than  he  has, 
and  I  know  the  rights  of  the  case  a  good  deal  better. 
I  put  the  blame,  what  there  is,  on  Mr.  Ardith ;  and 
yet  I  do  not  know  as  he  meant  any  harm.  It  was 
wrong  for  him  to  fool  with  Essie,  if  he  was  honestly 
in  love  with  some  one  else ,  but  then  I  cannot  say 
that  it  was  anything  more  than  fooling  on  his  part. 
I  suppose  it  is  what  goes  on  with  young  people  most 
of  the  while,  and  though  I  never  liked  it,  and  do  not 
approve  of  such  things,  I  am  not  going  to  pretend 
that  it  was  not  the  same  with  me  in  my  young  days, 

245 


246  LETTERS   HOME. 

or  you  either.  The  children  are  as  good  girls  as  ever 
stepped,  and  just  as  particular;  but  I  am  not  going 
to  say  they  have  never  let  fellows  kiss  them  without 
meaning  anything  by  it.  I  hear  it  is  not  so  much  the 
custom  in  the  city,  any  more ;  but  you  and  I  both 
know  that  it  is  different  in  the  country.  Besides 
Essie  was  only  sixteen  last  November,  and  he  might 
have  looked  upon  her  as  a  child ;  he  is  ten  years  older. 
When  the  ^  rest  of  us  were  sick,  and  he  was  helping 
her  about  the  work  that  there  was  nobody  but  her  to 
do,  and  he  saw  her  so  anxious  and  distracted,  it  was 
natural  for  him  to  try  to  comfort  her;  and  you  know 
how  our  feelings  are  mixed  up  at  that  age,  so  that  we 
can  hardly  tell  one  from  the  other.  One  thing  is  cer 
tain  :  he  never  asked  her  to  be  engaged  to  him,  and  I 
am  not  going  to  have  him  treated  as  if  he  had  broken 
a  promise  to  her,  in  getting  engaged  to  anybody  else. 
It  is  very  hard  for  her,  and  she  feels  it ;  but  if  we  go 
back  to  bygones,  it  was  our  fault  ever  having  him 
come  here.  Before  father  got  his  increase  of  salary, 
(and  it  was  Mr.  Ardith  that  got  it  for  him,)  we  were 
so  hard  put  to  it  to  make  both  ends  meet  here,  where 
everything  is  so  high,  that  we  fairly  made  a  set  at  him 
to  take  our  spare  room.  I  am  ashamed  to  think  of  it 
now,  and  so  I  tell  father  when  he  wants  to  bring  him 


MRS.    A.   J.  BAYSLEY  TO  MRS.  WM.  BAYSLEY.        247 

to  book,  as  lie  calls  it.  I  just  know  that  he  took  the 
room  out  of  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  and  he  has  been 
like  a  son  and  a  brother  to  the  whole  family  ever 
since.  Any  girl  might  be  glad  to  get  him,  but  I 
would  not  have  a  girl  of  mine  try  to  get  him,  for  the 
world,  unless  he  wanted  her.  That  is  the  way  I  feel 
about  it ;  and  Emmeline,  I  am  not  going  to  let  my 
judgment  be  clouded.  He  is  a  good  young  man,  I 
don't  care  what  they  say,  and  all  during  his  delirium 
he  kept  raving  and  explaining,  first  to  one  and  then  to 
another,  that  he  was  not  engaged  to  Essie,  and  never 
had  been,  but  he  did  like  her,  though  not  in  that  way 
exactly ;  or  so  much.  I  believe  he  has  tried  to  be 
honest,  and  that  he  has  suffered  more  than  any  one 
else,  from  letting  his  foolishness  overcome  him.  Essie 
has  got  to  stand  it.  She  was  not  to  blame,  for  she 
did  not  know  that  she  was  getting  so  attached  to  him ; 
but  I  guess  she  is  not  so  attached  but  what  she  can 
get  over  it. 

You  may  think  this  is  rather  of  an  unnatural  way 
for  a  mother  to  talk,  but  the  way  I  look  at  it  is  that 
a  mother  can  love  her  children  all  she  need  to,  and 
still  not  be  a  fool  about  them,  and  I  believe  that  is 
the  way  William  will  look  at  it  too. 

With  love, 

JANE  BAYSLEY. 


XLIV. 

From   Miss    FRANCES    DENNAM    to    MRS.    DENNAM, 
Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  March  4,  1902. 
DearMother : 

I  must  say  you  do  not  seem  very  grateful  for  the 
letters  that  I  have  written  to  keep  you  and  Lizzie 
along,  you  romantic  things,  while  there  has  been 
nothing  decisive  happening  here.  You  talk  as  if  I 
had  not  told  you  anything  worth  knowing  since  my 
voluminous  effort  of  February  20th.  What  did  you 
expect,  I  wonder  ?  Did  you  suppose  I  was  writing  a 
story,  and  could  make  up  a  chapter  whenever  I  chose  ? 
Well,  I  almost  wish  I  had  done  it,  and  stuffed  you 
full  of  fibs.  It  would  have  been  pleasanter  than  giv 
ing  you  the.  cold  facts,  now  that  something  has 
happened,  at  last. 

Mr.  Ardith  has  just  been  here  looking  so  sick,  so 
248 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.    249 

sick,  and  coughing  to  break  anybody's  heart.  It  is 
the  first  time  he  has  been  out  since  he  was  taken  down 
three  weeks  ago,  and  I  don't  believe  the  doctor  knew 
he  was  coming  now.  I  have  been  spending  the  nights 
at  home,  lately,  and  I  could  hardly  recognize  his  voice, 
when  I  heard  him  talking,  after  the  maid  let  me  in, 
from  where  I  stopped  in  the  vestibule.  He  spoke  so 
weakly  and  huskily,  and  every  now  and  then  he  broke 
down  coughing,  and  now  and  then  laughing  so  sadly 
it  made  my  flesh  creep.  The  parlor  of  the  apartment 
is  between  the  vestibule  and  the  little  room  that  be 
longs  to  me,  when  I  am  here,  and  where  I  always 
write  Miss  Ralson's  letters ;  but  a  door  opens  from  the 
vestibule  into  Mrs.  Ralson's  room,  and  I  decided  to  go 
there,  when  America  seemed  to  hear  me,  and  called 
out,  "Come  in  here,  Miss  Dennam!  Mr.  Ardith  is 
here.  Come  and  hear  what  he  is  saying !  " 

Her  voice  sounded  quite  wild,  #nd  I  hesitated,  but 
before  I  could  escape  into  her  mother's  room  she  came 
running  out,  and  pulled  me  in,  like  a  crazy  thing. 
Her  face  was  drenched  with  crying,  and  there  stood 
Mr.  Ardith  holding  himself  up  by  the  table,  and  pale 
as  death,  trying  to  smile,  when  he  put  out  his  hand 
to  me.  She  did  not  notice  his  gesture,  but  pushed 
me  into  a  chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  and 


250  LETTERS   HOME. 

said,  "Sit  down,  sit  down,  Mr.  Ardith,  and  let  Miss 
Dennam  hear  what  you  have  been  saying.  I  want  her 
to  be  judge  between  us. " 

She  took  a  big  chair  herself,  and  leaned  forward 
with  her  elbow  on  one  of  the  arms,  and  her  chin  in 
her  hand,  with  a  mocking  expression  of  attention. 
He  sank  into  the  chair  behind  him,  not  as  if  he  wished 
to,  but  as  if  he  were  not  able  to  keep  on  foot  any 
longer,  and  she  went  on :  "  Come,  begin !  I  have 
forgotten  a  good  deal  of  what  you  said,  and  it  will  all 
be  fresh  to  Miss  Dennam.  "  I  began,  "  Miss  Ralsori, 
I  am  going  to  your  mother, "  and  I  got  up,  but  she 
ran  and  pushed  me  down  again,  and  then  took  the 
same  attitude  as  before  in  her  own  chair,  and  waited 
for  him  to  speak.  He  only  hung  his  head,  with  a 
pitiful,  sidelong  glance  at  me.  "  What !  you  are  not 
going  on  ? "  she  said.  "  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  Miss 
Dennam,  myself.  Part  of  it  is  rather  ancient  history, 
but  she  wont  mind  hearing  it  once  more.  "  Then  she 
turned  to  me,  "  Mr.  Ardith  has  just  driven  down  to 
the  Walhondia  from  his  apartments  on  the  West  Side 
to  announce  the  end  of  our  engagement.  " 

You  will  say  that  I  ought  to  have  boxed  her  ears, 
and  I  felt  like  it ;  but  I  have  not  lived  with  her  two 
months  without  understanding  that  a  brutal  speech 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.   DENNAM.    251 

like  that  was  only  the  expression  of  suffering  that 
could  not  relieve  itself  any  other  way.  I  hated  her 
for  it,  but  I  pitied  her  too.  Besides,  it  was  not  my 
business  to  box  her  ears,  and  the  most  I  could  do  was 
to  make  another  start  for  the  door.  This  time  it  was 
Mr.  Ardith  who  stopped  me.  "  Don't  go,  "  he  said 
hoarsely.  "  Let  America  tell  you.  "  "  Yes,  let  me 
give  you  his  reasons ;  he  has  reasons  !  "  she  broke  in, 
but  without  noticing  her, he  went  on,  to  me :  "I came 
to  you  once  before  for  your  judgment.  " 

She  did  not  seem  to  take  that  in,  or  else  she  was 
too  preoccupied  with  what  was  in  her  mind.  "  Yes, 
indeed,  he  has  reasons,  and  you  will  be  surprised  how 
good  they  are.  He  has  found  out — with  the  help  of 
the  Baysley  family,  of  course — that  he  has  been  mak 
ing  love  to  that  girl,  up  there,  without  realizing  it,  and 
that  he  has  got  her  so  much  in  love  with  him  that  it 
will  kill  her  if  he  breaks  with  her.  He  says  that  he 
does  not  really  care  for  her,  and  that  he  does  not  ex 
pect  to  be  happy  with  her.  His  idea  is  that  I  have 
everything  in  the  world  to  make  me  happy,  and  that 
I  will  not  mind  giving  up  a  mere  trifle  like  him  to  a 
poor  girl  who  wants  him  so  much  worse. "  That  was 
frightfully  vulgar,  mother ;  but  I  am  beginning  to  find 
out  that  real  feeling  is  always  vulgar ;  and  I  knew  that 


252  LETTERS    HOME. 

if  a  girl  like  America  Ralson  would  let  herself  say 
such  things  it  must  be  because  her  soul  was  almost 
torn  with  red-hot  pincers.  She  whirled  her  face  round 
from  me  to  him :  "  Is  that  it  ?  Have  I  understated 
it,  or  overstated  it?"  "No,"  he  said,  "you  have 
stated  it, "  and  she  turned  back  to  me  again,  "  Well, 
and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ? " 

Then  I  broke  out.  "  I  don't  think  anything  about 
it,  and  I  wont.  You  had  no  right  to  make  me  come 
in  here.  If  you  didn't  care  for  me,  you  ought  to  care 
for  him.  "  "  I  intend  to  care  for  myself,  "  she  said. 
"He  has  been  telling  me  that  he  cares  the  whole 
world  for  me,  and  no  matter  how  much  I  care  for  him 
I  must  give  him  up  to  somebody  he  doesn't  care  for 
at  all.  He  can't  say  why  it  would  be  better  for  me  to 
suffer  than  for  her.  He  has  given  me  his  word,  and 
he  hasn't  given  her  his  word ;  perhaps  that's  why  he 
can  take  it  back  from  me,  and  can't  from  her. "  I 
knew  she  was  just  saying  that  to  hurt  him,  and  she 
wished  to  hurt  him  because  she  worshipped  him ;  but 
it  seemed  to  me  that  she  was  talking  sense,  too, 
though  I  don't  believ.e  she  knew  it.  He  must  have 
felt  something  like  that  too,  for  he  got  up  and  steadied 
himself  on  his  feet  without  the  help  of  the  table,  and 
said,  "  I  don't  take  it  back,  and  I  wont.  My  love  is 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MBS.   DENNAM.      253 

yours,  ana  my  life.  "  It  sounds  rather  silly,  when 
you  write  such  speeches,  back  and  forth,  but  the  poor 
things  were  in  dead  earnest,  when  they  made  them, 
and  so  was  I  when  I  heard  them.  I  looked  at  America, 
for  what  she  would  do  next,  and  I  was  ready  to  fly 
out  of  the  room  at  short  notice. 

She  had  got  up,  too,  and  she  said  scornfully,  "  Oh, 
you've  convinced  me  !  I  don't  want  your  love  now, 
or  your  life.  "  He  looked  at  her  like  death.  "  You 
mustn't  let  me  keep  you,  Mr.  Ardith,  from — your 
friends.  Good-bye.  "  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him, 
but  he  did  not  offer  to  take  it.  He  just  kept  looking 
at  her,  and  then  he  turned  away  to  the  door.  But 
she  wailed  after  him  in  the  greatest  astonishment, 
"Why,  are  you  going?"  and  he  turned,  and  she  held 
her  arms  toward  him.  I  knew  that  this  was  the  time 
for  me  to  fly  out  of  the  room  and  I  flew.  With  the 
door  between  them  and  me,  I  tried  to  collect  my 
thoughts,  as  people  used  to  do  in  the  novels,  but  the 
most  that  I  could  scrape  together  was  that  they  were 
acting  sensibly,  at  last,  if  they  were  acting  selfishly, 
and  their  love  was  keeping  them  from  behaving  falsely, 
no  matter  how  cruelly  he  would  have  to  behave  to 
that  other  girl.  Mother,  I  never  had  such  hard  work 
in  the  world  to  keep  from  listening  at  a  keyhole  as  I 


254  LETTERS     HOME. 

did  then,  and  I  hope  some  day  I  shall  be  rewarded. 
You  may  be  surprised,  but  I  was  so  honorable  that  I 
went  and  raised  the  window,  at  the  risk  of  taking  my 
death  of  cold,  and  let  the  roar  of  the  Avenue  come  in 
so  that  I  could  not  hear  anything  through  the  door. 
I  was  determined  to  freeze  rather  than  eavesdrop,  and 
I  had  left  my  wraps  in  the  vestibule.  I  could  not  get 
to  Mrs.  Ralson's  room  without  going  back  through  the 
parlor,  and  I  was  in  for  it  as  long  as  they  chose  to 
keep  me  there.  From  the  indications,  I  expected  that 
they  might  keep  me  the  whole  forenoon,  and  I  was 
composing  a  few  last  dying  messages  to  you  and  Liz 
zie,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Miss  Ralson  came  in. 
"  Well,  "  she  said,  calmly,  "  it's  over.  "  "  Over  ? " 
I  gasped  back  at  her.  "You  don't  mean  that" — 

O         X^ 

"  AVe've  given  each  other  up  !  That's  what  we've  done. 
He's  gone  back  to  her.  "  Before  I  could  stop  myself 
I  had  said,  "  What  fools  !  "  and  she  did  not  give  me 
time  to  take  it  back.  "  Oh,  fools,  yes  !  What  else 
did  you  expect  ? "  and  I  came  back  with  as  much  of 
an  answer  as  she  would  let  me :  "I  thought  you  were 
making  up,  and —  "  "  Did  you  suppose  I  could  let  him 
go  against  his  conscience  ? "  She  sank  down  in  an 
armchair,  looking  somehow  shrunken  and  little,  like 
the  same  person  wrung  out,  if  you  can  understand, 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       255 

and  the  sight  of  her,  and  the  knowledge  of  what  she 
must  have  been  through,  for  a  girl  like  her  to  come  to 
that,  made  me  furious. 

"Why  shouldn't  he  have  you  on  his  conscience 
as  well  as  her  ? "  I  said,  but  she  only  shook  her 
head,  and  sort  of  sighed.  "  That  is  different.  He 
was  right.  But  if  he  was  wrong,  I  had  to  give  him 
up,  just  the  same.  " 

Do  you  think  she  had,  mother  1  And  what  does 
Lizzie  think? 

I  can't  stand  it  anyhow;  I  know  it  can't  be 
right.  That  child  has  just  set  her  heart  on  him  be 
cause  he  has  been  good  to  her,  and  she  would  be  over 
it  in  a  few  months ;  but  America  is  a  woman ;  she  is 
twenty-five  years  old ;  as  old  as  he  is,  nearly ;  and  it 
is  a  serious  thing  with  her ;  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and 
death. 

It  is  none  of  my  business,  but  I  cannot  let  it  go 
so.  I  feel  like  going  up  there  to  the  Baysleys'  and 
having  it  out  with  them  myself,  and  telling  them  what 
a  pack  of  simpletons  they  are,  and  how  they  are  just 
making  misery  for  themselves,  as  well  as  everybody 
else. 

But  of  course,  that  wouldn't  do.  Thank  goodness, 
Mr.  Kalson  is  coming  home  to-night,  and  if  there 


256  LETTERS    HOME. 

is  the  slightest  opening,  I  think  I  can  get  in  some 
good  work  with  him.  Anyway  I  have  got  my  war 
paint  on,  and  I  am  not  going  to  bury  the  hatchet  in  a 
hurry,  I  can  tell  you. 

Your  affectionate  daughter, 

BLOOD-IN-THE-EYES  DENNAM. 


XLV. 

From  WALLACE  AEDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  March  4,  1902. 
My  dear  Lincoln : 

I  have  been  down,  and  nearly  under,  with  the  grippe, 
but  am  up  at  last,  and  it  might  have  been  better  if  I 
were  not.  Death  would  have  been  much  simpler  than 
life,  for  me. 

I  hope  you  will  not  be  hurt  at  my  asking  you  to 
send  me  back  my  letters.  I  have  had  my  parting  with 
A.  R.,  preparatory  to  my  meeting  with  E.  B.,  and  it 
seems  right  that  I  should  destroy  all  written  records 
of  the  past  that  relate  to  A.  R.  I  have  come  back  to 
this  hotel,  and  you  can  send  them  here.  I  could  not 
stay  any  longer  at  the  B.s'  under  the  circumstances, 
but  I  shall  go  round  there  to-night  and  try  to  do  what 
is  right. 

But  what  is  right?    Was  breaking  with  A.  R.,  right 
when  I  love  her  with  my  whole  heart  and  soul,  and  is 
257 


258  LETTERS    HOME. 

it  right  to  make  good  to  E.  B.  the  things  that  she 
took  for  granted  ?  Both  of  these  alternatives  are  ut 
terly  false,  and  yet  they  seem  my  duty.  Why  ?  I 
know  no  other  reason  than  because  I  wish  to  do 
neither,  and  that  there  is  no  other  way  to  punish  my 
self  for  what  I  have  done.  It  is  illogical  and 
unreasonable,  of  course,  but  there  seems  nothing  else. 
I  have  not  the  strength  to  write  more,  at  present. 
You  can  know  the  situation  from  what  I  have  told  you 
before ;  but  if  not,  I  cannot  help  it.  I  will  write 
again  as  soon  as  there  is  something  more.  Send  this 
letter  back  with  the  others,  and  I  will  feel  that  the 
incident  is  closed. 

Yours  faithfully, 

W.  ARDITH. 


XLVI. 

From    Miss    FRANCES     DENNAM    to  MRS.     DENNAM, 
Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YORK,  March  5,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

Yesterday  was  certainly  a  day  of  the  craziest  events 
that  ever  happened,  and  what  to-day  will  be,  goodness 
only  knows.  It  has  not  had  time  to  get  in  its  work, 
yet,  for  it  is  only  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  I  am 
scribbling  this  with  a  pencil  in  bed,  to  pass  away  the 
time  till  I  can  get  up  with  the  hope  of  something  to 
eat :  I  am  furiously  hungry,  and  I  have  got  to  think 
ing,  so  I  can't  sleep  any  longer.  The  principals  of  the 
affair  are  slumbering  peacefully,  while  I.  an  innocent 
second,  have  hardly  had  two  consecutive  winks  the 
whole  night. 

After  I  sent  off  my  massive  missive  to  you  yester 
day,  I  had  to  lunch  with  Miss  Ealson,  who  had  such 
an  appetite  as  I  have  never  seen  outside  of  a  house 
259 


260  LETTERS     HOME. 

of  mourning;  the  strongest  emotions  seem  to  leave 
one  the  hollowest.  But  I  pitied  her,  and  when  she 
proposed  going  to  a  matinee,  I  perfectly  understood 
her :  she  had  got  to  kill  time  from  this  out,  and  she 
could  not  begin  a  moment  too  soon.  And  where  do 
you  think  we  decided  to  go  ?  "Well,  to  a  sort  of  bur 
lesque  place,  where  there  are  three  broken-English- 
speaking  Germans  that  get  you  into  perfect  gales. 
I  do  not  know  how  we  came  to  think  of  it,  but  we 
did,  both  together ;  and  I  suppose  it  was  because  we 
thought  something  like  that  would  help  her  to  take 
her  mind  off  itself  better  than  anything  else.  Well,  it 
did,  almost  from  the  first  moment  of  the  sort  of  comic 
opera,  with  dancing  in  it,  that  I  should  blush  to  have 
you  see  me  see.  Then  came  a  parody  of  a  play  that 
is  running  at  another  theatre,  and  that  was  just  as 
killing,  without  being  as  scandalous  as  the  opera;  I 
suppose  because  several  women's  part  was  taken  by 
men :  I  don't  know  why  the  men  are  always  more 
decent  on  the  stage  than  the  women  are,  even  when 
the  men  are  acting  women. 

It  seemed  to  be  an  actressy  sort  of  matinee ;  you 
could  tell  the  strong  professional  faces,  and  the  intense 
professional  hats  and  gowns ;  and  you  could  be  per 
fectly  safe  that  you  would  not  see  anybody  you  knew 


MISS  FRANCES    DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.      261 

in  the  whole  crowd.  I  do  not  believe  America  cared 
what  sort  of  crowd  it  was;  what  she  wanted  to  do 
was  not  to  think ;  and  as  I  only  know  about  ten  peo 
ple  in  New  York,  I  was  not  anxious.  But  whom  do 
you  think  we  saw  coming  out  of  the  vestibule  of  the 
theatre,  a  little  ahead  of  us  ?  The  psychological  Mr. 
Binning  !  He  had  been  there,  too,  and  he  was  looking 
at  the  photographs  of  the  actresses  on  the  easels  in 
the  corrider,  standing  slanted  over,  with  his  cane 
under  his  arm,  and  his  silk-hatted  head  bent  to  one 
side,  critically.  Fortunately,  he  had  his  back  to  us, 
and  I  clutched  America  by  the  arm,  and  dragged  her 
out,  and  never  let  her  stop  till  we  had  mixed  ourselves 
up  with  the  crowd  coming  out  of  one  of  the  proper 
theatres.  Then  I  slowed  up  and  explained,  and  after 
awhile  Mr.  Binning  overtook  us,  and  lifted  his  hat 
and  asked  us  if  we  were  walking,  and  might  he  walk 
with  us  as  far  as  our  hotel. 

Of  course,  I  shall  never  know  whether  he  had  seen 
us  coming  out  of  that  place,  but  he  confessed  that  he 
had  been  there  himself,  and  said  he  had  been  im 
mensely  amused ;  it  was  so  amusing  that  it  was  a  pity 
it  was  not  more  adapted  to  ladies,  and  we  pretended 
that  we  had  hardly  ever  heard  of  it,  and  made  him 
explain  a  little,  which  he  did  very  skillfully  ;  and  then 


262  LETTERS     HOME. 

we  talked  of  the  piece  at  the  theatre  we  had  seemed 
to  come  out  of ;  we  had  fortunately  seen  it  just  before 
Mr.  Ardith  was  taken  sick.  If  this  was  a  little  wicked, 
and  I  do  not  say  it  was  perfectly  truthful,  I  excused 
myself,  because  I  could  see  that  it  was  helping  tide 
America  over.  Mr.  Binning  had  been  so  nice  that  we 
asked  him  to  come  in  and  have  tea  with  us,  and  you 
would  never  have  imagined  that  America  had  been 
through  anything  half  as  bad  as  a  hard  day  with  the 
dress-maker.  But  /  should,  and  when  I  saw  the  ex 
haustion  in  her  eyes,  and  heard  it  in  her  voice,  I  got 
her  away  for  an  imaginary  engagement,  and  made  Mr. 
Binning  believe  that  I  wanted  him  to  stay  on  with  me. 
He  seemed  very  glad  to  stay  on  with  any  one,  and 
took  cup  after  cup  of  tea,  enough  to  keep  him  awake 
the  whole  night.  He  is  a  very  sly  old  tommy,  and  I 
think  he  smelt  a  mouse  of  some  sort,  for  every  now 
and  then  he  would  come  back  from  some  other  sub 
ject,  and  artfully  bring  the  talk  round  to  Mr.  Ardith. 
He  pretended  to  be  ever  so  much  interested  in  him ; 
he  thinks,  or  says  he  thinks,  he  is  very  talented,  and 
that  his  greatest  danger  is  getting  himself  involved  in 
some  sort  of  love-affair,  and  spoiling  his  career  with 
some  sort  of  disadvantageous  early  marriage.  He  was 
really  very  subtle  in  the  analysis  he  made  of  Mr. 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM       263 

Ardith's  nature :  he  said  he  was  the  sort  of  person 
to  increase  the  danger  of  any  situation  he  found  him 
self  in  by  fancying  things  far  beyond  the  reality ;  that 
he  was  capable  of  becoming  anything  he  dreaded 
becoming ;  he  had  a  supersensitive  conscience,  and 
would  sacrifice  himself  or  anybody  else  to  its  aberra 
tions.  I  could  hardly  believe  he  was  not  onto  the 
facts,  especially  when  he  asked  where  Mr.  Ardith 
lived,  and  who  had  taken  care  of  him  in  his  grippe. 
When  I  told  him,  he  asked  if  there  were  daughters, 
and  I  said  there  were  two.  He  said,  "  Ah ! 3'  as  if 
that  told  the  whole  story,  and  then  he  said  "  Which  ? " 
so  slyly  that  I  wanted  to  get  up  and  box  his  old  ears. 
He  asked  all  sorts  of  questions  about  the  Baysleys, 
but  I  was  a  tabby,  if  he  was  a  tommy,  and  he  did  not 
know  anything  I  did  not  want  him  to.  Suddenly  he 
switched  off  to  Miss  Ralson,  and  asked  if  she  were 
not  very  romantic.  I  asked  him  why  he  thought  so, 
and  he  said,  merely  because  she  always  seemed  so 
matter-of-fact ;  he  had  noticed  that  practical  people 
were  always  full  of  romantic  potentialities.  He  began 
to  talk  about  her  beauty ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
she  was  built  so  generously,  and  he  hoped  that  she 
would  not  throw  herself  away  at  the  first  opportunity  ; 
such  a  girl  could  make  the  right  man  supremely  happy. 


264  LETTERS    HOME. 

He  suddenly  asked  when  we  expected  Mr.  Ralson 
back ;  he  hoped  he  was  not  anxious  about  the  Trust 
on  account  of  the  bluff  the  government  was  making ; 
it  was  nothing  but  a  bluff.  Then,  before  I  knew  it,  he 
was  talking  about  Mr.  Ardith  again,  and  saying  it 
was  delightful  to  see  two  men  of  such  different  types 
as  he  and  Mr.  Ralson  liking  each  other.  Mr.  Ralson 
was  charmingly  fond  of  the  young  fellow. 

He  had  managed  to  make  it  so  impersonal  that  I 
could  not  feel  that  it  was  impertinent.  You  might 
say  it  was  patronizing,  for  he  talked  of  the  Ralsons 
and  Mr.  Ardith  as  if  they  were  a  different  order  of 
beings  from  himself.  I  was  just  getting  ready  to  re 
sent  that  when  he  asked  Mr.  Ardith's  address,  and 
said  he  was  going  to  venture  to  call  upon  him ;  then 
he  rose,  with  the  ease  of  a  person  who  has  been  used 
to  managing  such  things  all  his  life,  and  shook  hands 
with  me,  and  got  himself  away  before  I  could  say 
Jack  Robinson. 

You  will  infer  from  my  beginning  to  use  ink  here 
that  I  am  out  of  bed.  I  have  had  my  coffee,  but  the 
others  have  not  breakfasted  yet,  and  I  have  the  time 
and  have  got  the  strength  to  go  on  with  this  yarn  for 
a  while  longer. 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       265 

Mr.  Ralson  arrived  from  Washington  on  the  6.23, 
last  night  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  in  the 
hotel  almost  before  Mr.  Binning  was  out  of  it,  but 
there  must  have  been  an  interval,  for  I  was  with  Mrs. 
Ralson,  comforting  her  against  her  fears  of  accidents 
to  Mr.  Ralson,  and  reassuring  her  about  America  and 
her  headache,  and  proving  to  her  that  it  was  mathe 
matically  impossible  for  Mr.  Ardith  to  have  a  relapse 
from  having  come  out  too  soon,  when  Mr.  Ralson 
arrived  to  relieve  me.  Then  he  and  I  had  rather  a 
difficult  dinner  together,  for  it  is  hard  to  eat  in  ab 
solute  silence  even  when  you  do  not  want  to  talk ;  but 
long  before  I  was  ready  for  the  order,  he  had  pushed 
back  his  plate  (as  I  suppose  he  used  to  do  when  he 
ate  his  whole  dinner  off  one  plate,)  and  lit  his  cigar, 
with  his  chair  tilted  on  its  hind  legs,  and  was  saying 
"  Now  tell  me  about  Make.  " 

I  do  not  believe  I  could  ever  have  done  it,  if  I  had 
not  been  like  the  beaver  that  clomb  the  tree,  and  had 
to.  But  I  did  do  it,  with  no  more  interruption  from 
Mr.  Ralson  than  an  occasional  snort,  and  "  Humph  !  " 
and  a  question  now  and  then  to  make  me  keep  on. 
Things  must  have  been  going  the  way  of  the  Trust  at 
Washington,  for  he  was  in  a  very  good  humor,  and 
when  he  began  to  speak,  he  took  a  very  optimistic 


266  LETTERS     HOME. 

view  of  the  matter.  He  just  said,  "  I  guess  we  can 
arrange  that  all  right,  if  Ardith  don't  insist  on  making 
a  fool  of  himself.  We're  a  party  in  interest  as  much 
as  the  Baysleys,  and  I  don't  propose  to  let  them  walk 
over  us  if  they  are  dependent  on  me  for  their  living.  " 
That  way  of  looking  at  the  case  seemed  to  amuse  him, 
and  he  laughed.  "  Of  course,  I  will  do  the  fair  thing 
by  them, "  he  said. 

He  had  made  me  tell  all  I  knew,  and  now  he  began 
to  cross-question  me ;  and  I  suppose  I  looked  worried, 
for  he  apologized,  "  I  have  to  make  sure  of  my  ground, 
you  know,  "  and  then  he  went  into  a  long  re  very,  and 
smoked  and  smoked.  Every  now  and  then  he  seemed 
as  if  he  were  going  to  say  something,  but  he  only  made 
a  noise  in  his 'throat,  and  kept  on  smoking.  I  had  not 
heard  any  ring,  when  the  maid  came  in  with  the  sort 
of  card  they  give  people  to  send  up  their  names  on 
from  the  office,  and  he  said,  "  Heigh  !  What's  this  ? " 
and  looked  at  it,  at  arm's  length,  to  make  out  the 
name,  and  then  said,  "  Yes,  certainly,  have  him  up, " 
and  kept  smoking,  and  frowning  through  his  smoke, 
while  I  was  on  pins  and  needles,  till  I  heard  some  one 
being  let  into  the  vestibule,  and  hesitating  there,  and 
Mr.  Ralson  roared  out,  "  Come  in  here  ! " 

I  had  never  seen  Mr.  Baysley  before,  but  somehow 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MBS.  DENNAM.       267 

I  knew  who  it  was  the  moment  I  set  eyes  on  him; 
and  mother,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  did  not  like  his  looks. 
My  sympathies  were  naturally  with  him  and  against 
Mr.  Ralson,  for  we  belong  to  the  poor  side  and  not 
the  rich,  and  I  do  think  the  Baysleys  have  had  a  good 
deal  to  bear.  But  it  is  no  use  to  pretend  that  hard 
luck  does  not  take  the  manhood  out  of  a  man ;  when 
he  has  an  inferior  part  in  life  to  play,  he  begins  to 
look  the  part,  and  he  looks  the  superior  part  when  he 
has  that  to  play.  Mr.  Ralson,  with  his  cloud  of  white 
hair,  and  his  red  face  crossed  by  his  big  white  mous 
tache,  and  his  large  stomach  swelling  out  through  his 
unbuttoned  coat,  was  "  all  there  "  as  he  came  forward 
with  his  napkin  in  his  hand ;  and  poor  Mr.  Baysley, 
in  his  shabby  overcoat,  with  his  silly  Fedora  hat  in 
his  hand,  and  his  frightened  eyes  running  from  Mr. 
Ralson  to  me  and  back,  seemed  to  have  left  the  best 
of  himself  somewhere  else.  Mr.  Ralson  gave  a  roar 
ing  laugh  and  held  out  the  hand  that  hadn't  the 
napkin  in  it.  "  Well,  old  Battery  A  !  "  he  shouted 
out,  and  a  pitiful  kind  of  smile  came  into  Mr.  Bays- 
ley's  face,  as  if  he  did  not  dare  quite  believe  in  the 
appearance  of  friendliness.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ? 
Have  some  coffee  ?  Sit  down — pull  up  !  "  and  Mr. 
Ralson  dragged  him  by  the  hand  toward  the  table,  and 


268  LETTERS  HOME. 

said  to  me,  "  Miss  Dennam,  will  you  make  that  girl 
fetch  Mr.  Baysley  a  cup?  Do'  know  whether  you 
know  Miss  Dennam,  Mr.  Baysley.  Take  off  your  over 
coat.  Have  a  cigar?  And  tell  her  to  put  down  the 
Scotch,  too.  I'm  just  off  the  train,  and  Miss  Dennam 
and  I  have  been  having  a  bite  here.  Sorry  my  wife 
and  daughter  are  not  very  well.  How  are  your  fam 
ily  ?"  "  Well  sir,  we  have  had  a  good  deal  of  sickness 
this  winter.  "  "  That  so  ?  Well,  I've  been  away— 
but  come  to  think,  I  had  heard  something  about  it. 
Grippe  ? "  "  Yes,  sir.  We  have  all  been  down  with 
it,  and  Mr.  Ardith  has  had  it  too. "  "  Oh,  yes  !  Yes, 
yes  ! "  "  He's  been  out  for  the  first  time,  to-day, 
and — he  hasn't  got  in  yet,  or  hadn't  when  I  left  home, 
and  moth —  Mrs.  Baysley  was  feeling  a  little  anxious. 
And  I  thought  I  would  run  down,  and  inquire  if  you 
had  happened  to  see  anything  of  him  here.  " 

Mr.  Baysley  seemed  to  have  hard  work  to  get  that 
out,  and  did  not  seem  much  relieved  afterwards,  but 
Mr.  Ralson  broke  the  ash  of  his  cigar  off  into  his 
saucer,  and  answered  cosily,  "  Why,  yes,  Miss  Den 
nam  tells  me  he  was  here  this  afternoon — or  morning, 
was  it? — but  I  haven't  seen  him  myself.  He's 
probably  met  some  friends —  Sugar  ?  "  By  this  time 
Mr.  Baysley  had  his  coffee,  and  Mr.  Ralson  pushed 


MISS  FRANCES    DENNAM  TO  MRS.   DENNAM.      269 

the  sugarbowl  towards  him  ;  and  offered  him  a  lighted 
match  for  his  cigar.  "  I  like  my  tobacco  along  with 
my  coffee."  Mr.  Baysley  submissively  lighted  his 
cigar,  and  with  that  and  the  coffee,  he  began  to  look 
a  little  less  daunted  in  Mr.  Ralson's  presence.  "  It 
seems  like  old  times  to  be  drinking  coffee  again  with 
you,  Baysley ;  we  used  to  take  it  out  of  a  tin  cup, 
and  we  didn't  exactly  have  loaf  sugar  in  it ;  we  had  to 
get  our  tobacco  across  the  lines,  when  there  was  a 
Johnny  handy  that  wanted  coffee. "  That  made  Mr. 
Baysley  laugh,  and  show  most  of  his  upper  teeth 
gone,  and  cough  out  through  the  smoke,  "  Gay 
times  !  "  and  wag  his  head  with  more  courage.  I  could 
make  out  that  they  had  been  soldiers  together,  in  the 
Civil  War ;  and  they  went  on  talking,  and  getting 
friendlier.  But  that  did  not  make  me  any  happier, 
for  I  saw  just  as  well  that  Mr.  Ralson  was  working 
Mr.  Baysley,  and  that  the  poor,  weak  old  creature  was 
flattered,  and  was  like  putty  in  his  hands.  I  knew  he 
had  come  to  talk  with  Mr.  Ralson  about  Mr.  Ardith, 
and  probably  he  had  told  his  wife  that  he  was  not 
going  to  let  the  Ralsons  walk  over  them ;  for  if  Mr. 
Ardith  had  not  come  back  to  them,  yet,  they  might 
very  well  have  supposed  that  he  was  not  coming  back 
at  all,  and  the  Ralsons  knew  it.  That  was  what  his 


270  LETTERS    HOME. 

first  remark  indicated,  but  Mr.  Ralson  ha"d  got  him  far 
beyond  that.  If  he  had  met  Mr.  Baysley  roughly, 
perhaps  Mr.  Baysley  would  have  held  his  ground,  but 
as  it  was  he  was  not  left  a  leg  to  stand  on,  whatever 
he  thought  his  rights  were.  It  made  me  fairly  sick, 
and  when  Mr.  Ralson  said,  "  Why  don't  that  girl  bring 
the  Scotch  ? "  I  could  not  stand  it  any  longer.  I  got 
up  and  said  I  would  send  her  with  it,  and  I  went  in 
to  Mrs.  Ralson,  and  let  her  talk  her  nerves  down,  after 
I  had  made  excuses  for  Miss  Ralson's  headache,  and 
Mr.  Ralson's  business  caller.  She  did  not  ask  who  it 
was  with  him ;  and  after  awhile  she  said  she  believed 
she  would  go  to  bed,  and  I  came  to  my  own  room, 
and  have  been  writing  to  you  ever  since. 

It  is  ten  o'clock,  and  I  have  just  heard  Mr.  Ralson 
and  Mr.  Baysley  coming  out  into  the  vestibule  to 
gether,  shouting  and  laughing.  Mr.  Baysley's  voice 
was  the  same,  but  it  was  in  quite  another  key,  so  I 
should  have  hardly  known  it,  when  I  heard  him  say 
ing,  "  Well,  sir,  you  done  the  handsome  thing,  and  I'll 
see  that  there's  no  trouble. "  "  If  it  isn't  right,  "  I 
heard  Mr.  Ralson  answer,  "  I'll  make  it  right.  "  "  Oh, 
it's  all  right.  It'll  fix  the  old  place  up  in  good  shape ; 
and  if  you  make  the  salary  the  same  in  Timber  Creek 


MISS   FRANCES  DENNAM   TO  MBS,  DENNAM.      271 

as  what  it  is  here  " —  "  Sure  I "  "  Then  we  don't 
need  to  say  anything  more  about  it.  Well,  sir,  good 
night—Jim.  "  "  Good  night,  Ab.  "  "He,  he  ! " 
"Haw,  haw !  " 

I  feel  as  if  I  had  overheard  something  awful,  and 
the  cold  chills  are  running  down  my  back ;  but  I  do 
not  know  any  more  than  you  do  what  those  two  mis 
erable  men  meant,  and  I  leave  you  to  find  out  for 
yourselves.  /  am  going  to  bed.  , 

I  seem  to  be  keeping  a  diary  instead  of  writing  a 
letter.  I  began  this  quite  gaily  on  the  5th,  expecting 
to  mail  it  that  day,  and  here  I  am  dragging  on  through 
the  7th,  and  not  seeing  the  end  yet.  Well,  one  thing : 
I  will  never  keep  another  diary. 

To  my  great  surprise  I  did  get  to  sleep  towards 
morning,  but  a  little  after  eight  I  was  roused  from  my 
wicked  dreams  by  the  maid,  who  came  to  tell  me  that 
there  was  a  lady  in  the  vestibule  wanting  to  see  Mr. 
Ralson,  and  that  she  was  afraid  to  call  him,  and  what 
should  she  do  ?  Of  course  I  asked,  "  What  kind  of 
lady  ?  "  and  what  her  name  was,  but  the  maid  did  not 
know,  and  my  mind  worked  round  from  female 
anarchists  to  destitute  females,  and  then  I  decided 
to  get  up  and  go  see  for  myself,  and  get  rid  of 


272  LETTERS    HOME. 

the  lady,  who  was  unseasonable,  whatever  she  was. 

I  was  rewarded  by  finding  Mrs.  Baysley,  who 
accounted  for  her  getting  into  the  apartment  at  that 
hour  by  saying  that  she  had  come  directly  up  in  the 
elevator  to  the  number  that  her  husband  had  given 
her.  She  was  only  anxious  apparently  to  make  sure 
that  Mr.  Ralson  had  not  gone  out,  and  said  she  was 
not  in  a  hurry,  but  could  wait  till  he  had  his  breakfast, 
if  he  could  not  see  her  before.  I  made  her  come  into 
the  parlor,  and  asked  her  to  share  my  coffee,  but  she 
said  she  had  been  to  breakfast,  and  did  not  want  any 
thing  more  at  present.  I  tried  to  talk  with  her,  but 
her  mind  seemed  so  centered  on  something,  that  I 
could  not  get  more  than  a  word  at  a  time  out  of  her, 
and  she  would  not  give  me  any  clew  to  what  she 
wanted.  She  just  sat  there  drooping  in  her  chair,  and 
holding  something  in  her  folded  hands  that  was  like 
a  scrap  of  paper;  and  I  decided  that  if  Mr.  Ralson 
kept  her  waiting  a  great  while,  I  would  go  and  knock 
on  his  door  myself,  and  take  the  consequences,  when 
America  came  into  the  room. 

I  did  not  know  she  was  up,  and  it  startled  me,  but 
I  could  not  help  noticing  how  fresh  and  strong  and 
beautiful  she  looked.  If  she  had  shared  my  vigils, 
she  did  not  show  it,  and  Mrs,  Baysley  seemed  to  wither 


MISS    FRANCES    DENNAM    TO  MRS.  DENNAM       273 

before  her,  as  Mr.  Baysley  had  withered  before  her 
father.  She  swept  by  her  without  seeing  her,  and 
said  to  me,  "  I  wish  you  would  give  me  some  of  your 
coffee,  Miss  Dennarn  ;  I'm  half -starved,  "  and  I  had 
to  say,  "  Mrs.  Baysley  is  here,  "  before  she  noticed 
her.  She  gave  a  start,  at  the  name,  and  as  she 
whirled  round,  and  looked  at  her,  I  could  see  the  dis 
gust  come  into  her  face.  Mrs.  Baysley  stood  up  in 
front  of  her  chair  without  offering  to  come  forward, 
and  for  a  dreadful  moment  America  did  not  move, 
either.  Then  she  went  to  her,  and  put  out  her  hand. 
"  Wont  you  have  some  breakfast,  Mrs.  Baysley ! "  she 
said,  and  Mrs.  Baysley  repeated  her  refusal,  sinking 
down  again  into  her  chair  without  taking  America's 
hand.  "  I  wanted  to  see  your  father,  "  she  said,  and 
I  was  afraid  Miss  Ralson  would  resent  her  bluntness, 
but  she  only  answered,  still  more  gently,  "Father 
isn't  up  yet,  and  he  doesn't  like  to  have  us  call  him. 
Wont  I  do  ?  " 

Mrs.  Baysley  didn't  say  anything,  and  for  awhile  I 
did  not  see  that  she  could  not  say  anything.  Amer 
ica  poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  went  with  it  to 
her,  and  this  time  she  did  not  refuse  it.  She  put  up 
her  veil  to  drink  it,  and  then  I  saw  that  she  had  been 
crying.  She  drank  the  whole  cup  off,  and  America 


274:  LETTERS    HOME. 

went  and  got  it  from  her,  and  sat  down  again,  and 
waited  patiently.  It  seemed  a  long  time,  but  I  do  not 
suppose  it  was  long,  before  Mrs.  Baysley  spoke  again. 
She  cleared  her  voice,  and  said,  "  I  don't  know  but 
what  you'll  do  just  as  well.  "  "  I'll  go  and  wake  my 
father,  if  you  are  in  a  hurry,  "  said  America.  "  No, " 
said  Mrs.  Baysley,  "  I  guess  I'd  rather  talk  with  you.  " 
She  stopped,  and  sat  fumbling  the  paper  in  her  hands ; 
then  she  rose  and  came  stiffly  forward  and  laid  it  on 
the  table  before  America,  and  I  could  not  help  seeing 
that  it  was  a  check,  with  Mr.  Ralson's  flourishing 
signature. 

America  looked  up  at  her  puzzled,  and  Mrs.  Bays- 
ley  said,  "  I  got  it  from  Mr.  Baysley,  and  I  want  you 
to  give  it  to  your  father,  and  tell  him  that  we  can't 
keep  it.  We  don't  want  to  go  back  to  Timber  Creek 
— at  least  the  girls  and  I  don't — and  if  we  can  just 
go  on  here,  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  it's  all  we 
ask."  "But  didn't — wasn't  the  money  coming  to 
Mr.  Baysley?"  America  asked,  and  Mrs.  Baysley 
shook  her  head.  "  There  ain't  any  money  coming  to 
us.  "  "  But  I  don't  understand, "  said  America. 
"  What  should  my  father  want  to  give  it  to  Mr.  Bays- 
ley  for  then  ? "  "I  don't  know  as  I  can  explain, "  said 
Mrs.  Baysley,  and  she  began  edging  toward  the  door. 


MISS  FRANCES    DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       275 

"  Maybe  your  father  will  tell  you.  Any  rate  I've  got 
nothing  to  say.  All  we  want  is  to  stay  on  just  as  we 
were  before.  We  shall  get  through.  "  She  was  look 
ing  down  at  the  floor,  as  if  she  were  ashamed  of 
something,  but  now  she  looked  up  into  America's  face 
u  I  want  to  say  that  there  are  not  going  to  be  any 
hard  feelings  in  us.  " 

America's  nostrils  puffed  out  with  indignation  in 
an  instant.  "  Any  hard  feelings !  Why  in  the  world 
should  you  have  hard  feelings,  I  should  like  to  know ! 
You  have  him,  and  I  have  lost  him  !  "  Mrs.  Baysley 
looked  at  her  as  if  she  did  not  understand.  Then  she 
seemed  to  realize  something,  and  she  asked,  "  Hasn't 
he  been  here  since  ? "  "  Since  ?  "  said  America. 
" Since  when?"  "Since  he  was  at  our  house  last 
night,  "  Mrs.  Baysley  said,  and  America  flashed  out, 
"  Now  you  just  sit  right  down,  and  tell  me  what  you 
mean. "  "  There  ain't  any  call  to  sit  down, "  Mrs. 
Baysley  said.  "  He  came  over  from  the  hotel  where 
he  says  he  is  going  to  put  up,  from  this  out,  and 
wanted  to  see  Essie,  Well,  /  saw  him,  and  I  told 
him  what  she  had  agreed  to  tell  him :  that  we  did  not 
feel  he  was  beholden  to  her  in  any  way  or  shape,  and 
he  was  just  as  free  as  if  he  had  never  laid  eyes  on  her. 
I  don't  know  what  fath — Mr.  Baysley — would  have 


276  LETTERS    HOME. 

said  if  he  had  been  there,  but  he  had  come  here  to 
see  your  father,  and  I  spoke  for  myself;  and  I  told 
him  we  felt  as  bad  as  he  did,  and  we  didn't  put  the 
blame  on  him,  altogether,  if  there  was  any  blame,  for 
we  didn't  believe  he  wanted  to  fool  the  child.  She 
ain't  anything  but  a  child,  anyway,  and  she's  got 
chances  enough  to  get  over  it. "  Mrs.  Baysley  was 
winking  hard  as  she  said  this,  and  she  had  got  her 
hand  on  the  doorknob,  when  she  let  drop  the  only 
bitterness  that  came  from  her :  "  Next  time,  I  hope 
she  wont  be  so  ready  to  make  a  fool  of  herself  be 
cause  some  simpleton  is  kind  to  her,  and  pets  her  up 
when  he  better  keep  his  hands  off.  I  wish  you  good 
morning. " 

She  opened  the  door  and  whisked  out,  and  left 
America  and  me  staring  at  each  other.  I  don't  know 
which  would  have  spoken  first,  or  whether  we  should 
ever  have  spoken  again,  if  we  had  not  heard  Mr.  Ral- 
son  behind  us  saying,  "  What's  the  row  about !  Who's 
been  here,  asking  for  me  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  ? "  America  turned  and  pounced  on  him.  "  Father, 
what  did  you  give  Mr.  Baysley  this  check  for  ? "  and 
she  poked  it  at  him.  He  looked  at  it  with  a  kind  of 
shame-faced  smile,  and  she  rushed  on,  "  Was  it  to  buy 
Mr.  Ardith  from  him  ?  "  "  Well,  I  shouldn't  call  it 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       277 

that,  exactly, "  her  father  said.  I  supposed  you 
wanted  to  make  things  smooth  for  them — it  was  noth 
ing  but  a  matter  of  business.  "  "  Oh,  business  !  "  she 
flung  out.  "  You  think  everything  is  business !  Well, 
there  are  some  things  that  are  not.  Mrs.  Baysley  has 
been  here  to  bring  back  your  check,  and  give  me  Mr. 
Ardith  for  nothing.  But  I  don't  want  him,  and  you 
may  have  him,  if  you  do.  Perhaps  he'll  sell  himself 
to  you  a  little  cheaper.  "  '  She  dashed  the  check  at 
her  father's  feet,  and  ran  but  of  the  room,  and  I  could 
hear  her  crying  on  the  way  to  her  own  room.  Mr. 
Ralson  just  said,  "  Well,  I'll  be  damned,  "  and  went 
in  to  breakfast,  and  left  me  to  pick  up  the  check,  and 
put  it  into  his  desk. 

Now,  this  is  all  at  present,  and  I  think  it  is  enough 
for  one  while.  I  am  finishing  this,  while  the  maid  is 
giving  Mrs.  Ralson  her  breakfast,  and  I  have  nothing 
else  to  do.  I  do  not  know  whether  to  send  it  by  fast 
freight  or  not ;  the  postage  on  such  a  letter  would  be 
something  awful.  I  suppose  that  I  will  let  you  know 
the  rest  if  anything  else  happens.  I  shall  want  to  tell 
it  as  bad  as  you  will  want  to  have  me. 

Your  affectionate  daughter, 

FRANCES. 


XLYII 

From  Miss  FRANCES  DENNAM  to  MRS.   DENNAM, 

Lake  Ridge. 

NEW  YofcK,  March  10th.,  1902. 
Dear  Mother : 

I  almost  wish  there  was  no  "  rest "  to  the  story  I 
have  been  telling  you,  but  things  have  to  end  some 
how,  when  they  begin,  no  matter  whether  you  like 
the  ending  or  not. 

The  worst  of  women  is  that  they  take  things  out 
in  talk,  and  when  they  have  said  a  thing  they  are  just 
as  well  satisfied  as  if  they  had  done  it,  and  seem  to 
think  they  have.  I  never  respected  any  one  so  much 
in  my  life  as  I  did  America  Ralson  when  she  had 
that  scene  with  her  father  about  the  check,  and  I 
would  have  done  anything  to  help  her  in  the  stand 
she  had  taken.  For  once,  I  was  proud  of  my  sex, 
for  although  we  can  despise  men  easily  enough,  it  is 
not  quite  so  easy  to  honor  women ;  and  I  did  honor 
278 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.       279 

her  with  my  whole  heart.  She  could  not  have  taken 
Mr.  Ardith  back,  under  the  circumstances,  and  kept  a 
solitary  rag  of  self-respect,  and  I  gloried  in  her. 

I  did  not  see  her  the  whole  morning,  and  I  had  to 
lunch  alone.  About  four  o'clock  this  afternoon,  she 
sent  for  me,  and  we  had  a  long,  splendid  powwow.  I 
never  supposed  she  had  such  a  clear  mind,  but  she 
must  have  been  thinking  the  whole  affair  over,  and 
she  was  so  logical  that  I  could  hardly  believe  it  was 
the  same  harum-scarum  person.  She  went  over  the 
case  with  me,  from  the  time  Mr.  Ardith  first  appeared 
here,  broken  hearted  from  the  way  Miss  Deschenes 
had  used  him  in  Wottoma,  till  he  was  taken  down 
with  the  grippe  there  at  the  Baysley's.  She  tried  to 
do  him  justice  at  every  step,  but  her  conclusion  was 
that  he  had  been  wickedly  weak,  if  he  had  not  been 
simply  wicked,  and  that  no  girl  could  be  happy  with 
a  man  she  could  not  look  up  to.  She  said  that  he 
might  have  done  much  worse  things,  and  still  kept 
her  respect,  but  she  could  not  respect  a  man  who  was 
so  afraid  of  hurting  people  that  he  could  not  say  his 
soul  was  his  own,  and  really  did  more  harm  by  his 
shillyshallying  than  if  he  had  taken  a  thoroughly  sel 
fish  course  throughout,  and  been  guided  by  nothing 
but  his  own  interests. 


280  LETTBKS  HOME. 

When  I  defended  him  a  little,  and  said  that  I 
thought  he  ought  not  to  be  punished  for  the  harm  he 
had  not  meant  to  do,  she  said  she  was  surprised  at 
me,  and  she  argued  me  out  of  it.  She  declared  that 
if  there  was  any  such  thing  as  justice,  it  had  to  be 
blind  to  everything  but  the  facts,  and  could  not  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  motives.  She  said,  "  Don't 
you  see  that  if  I  took  Mr.  Ardith  back  now  we  could 
never  look  each  other  in  the  face  ?  We  should  always 
be  remembering  what  had  happened,  and  I  should  be 
thinking  how  he  had  been  feebly  led  away  by  his 
pity,  to  let  that  girl  get  in  love  with  him ;  and  he 
would  be  thinking  how  I  had  let  my  silliness  for  him 
overcome  my  better  judgment.  No,  there  is  just  one 
thing  for  it.  We  are  parted  now,  and  we  must  stay 
parted. " 

She  said  a  great  deal  more,  but  it  always  came  to 
this,  and  every  now  and  then  she  would  throw  her 
arms  round  me,  and  cry,  and  make  me  promise  never 
to  leave  her,  but  take  her  out  to  Lake  Eidger  and  we 
would  start  a  grape  farm  together ;  we  could  make  it 
pay  by  raising  the  early  kinds,  and  getting  them  into 
the  market  before  anybody  else.  She  made  me  want 
to  laugh,  at  times,  but  through  it  all,  I  honored  her, 
and  she  talked  herself  quiet  at  last,  and  said  she  had 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO   MRS.  DENAMN.    281 

not  felt  so  strong  in  her  life  before.  She  kept  up 
splendidly,  that  whole  evening,  and  through  the 
whole  of  Saturday.  We  went  to  a  matinee,  where 
there  was  rather  a  lovesick  play,  and  she  criticised  it 
unmercifully ;  I  never  heard  any  one  so  funny  about 
the  plot,  and  the  idiotic  lovers.  She  would  not  let 
me  go  home  in  the  evening  ;  I  slept  in  her  room  with 
her,  and  we  talked  till  nearly  morning,  about  all  sorts 
of  things,  but  mostly  about  girls  and  the  kind  of  men 
they  had  married.  She  wanted  to  know  if  I  had  ever 
been  engaged,  and  I  tried  to  give  her  an  idea  of  the 
kind  of  men  I  would  have  had  to  be  engaged  to  in 
Lake  Ridge;  and  she  said  that  was  just  the  place 
where  she  should  like  to  spend  the  rest  of  her  life, 
and  not  see  another  man  to  speak  to  as  long  as  she 
breathed. 

f  In  the  morning  we  went  to  church,  and  in  the 
afternoon  we  talked  again,  and  she  made  me  say  that 
I  would  write  to  you,  and  ask  you  if  we  might  come 
out  for  a  few  days'  visit  this  week ;  but  I  don't  think 
you  need  get  the  spare  room  ready  just  yet.  Sud 
denly,  when  she  had  arranged  everything  she  said, 
"  Don't  you  think  its  rather  queer  he  doesn't  write, 
and  ask  if  he  may  come  to  see  me  ? "  I  knew  who 
he  was,  but  I  thought  I  would  make  her  say  Mr. 


282  LETTERS  HOME. 

Ardith  for  the  discipline,  if  her  mind  was  veering 
round  that  way,  so  I  asked  whom  she  meant,  and 
then  I  suggested  that  perhaps  he  was  waiting  for 
some  sort  of  sign  from  her.  She  was  very  haughty 
at  the  idea,  and  said  he  would  have  to  wait  a  good 
while,  and  then  we  branched  off  on  other  things,  but 
in  the  midst  of  a  discussion  of  Mr.  Binning,  and 
whether  it  would  be  much  out  of  our  way  to  go  round 
by  Boston  when  we  went  to  Lake  Ridge,  she  broke 
off  with,  "  I'll  tell  you  what:  if  Mr.  Ardith  calls,  you 
shall  see  him,  and  give  him  his  letters ;  I've  got  them 
tied  up.  And  I  want  you  to  put  on  your  frozenest 
Lake  Ridge  behavior,  and  let  him  feel  that  you  are 
handing  him  a  small  cake  of  ice  from  me.  Will 
you  ?  "  She  began  to  laugh,  and  I  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  her,  when  she  said,  "  If  he  is  any 
thing  of  a  man  at  all,  he  can't  let  the  thing  drop  just 
at  this  point;  he  must  try  to  see  me.  I  hate  a  boyish 
man.  I  believe  if  I  ever  marry,  it  will  be  somebody 
like  Mr.  Binning.  A  girl  ought  to  marry  somebody 
who  can  understand  her,  or  at  least  analyze  her,  and  I 
am  sure  he  could  do  that.  I  wonder  how  I  would  go 
down  in  Boston.  I  believe  I  could  get  him  if  I  tried, 
and  I  have  got  half  a  notion  to  try.  It  would  be  fun 
Yes,  I  am  going  in  for  Mr.  Binning.  " 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.   DENNAM.     283 

She  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  when  she  came  back, 
I  could  see  by  her  very  bright-eyed  look  that  she  had 
been  crying,  and  then  washing  away  the  tears.  She 
said,  "  I  have  decided  to  send  Mr.  Ardith' s  notes  to 
him  by  a  messenger,  as  soon  as  I  know  his  address. 
I  never  want  him  to  darken  these  doors  again. "  She 
had  hardly  got  the  words  out  of  her  mouth  before  we 
heard  the  scraping  of  Mr.  Ralson's  latchkey,  and  then 
the  opening  of  the  door,  and  his  saying,  "  Oh,  come 
in,  come  right  in ! "  and  before  I  knew  what  I  was 
about,  he  came  in  to  where  we  were  sitting,  with  Mr. 
Ardith  by  the  arm.  I  expected  to  see  America  get 
up,  and  leave  the  room,  and  she  did  rise  and  stand 
looking  at  him  magnificently,  so  that  I  should  have 
thought  he  would  have  quailed  at  her  glance.  I  don't 
know  exactly  how  people  do  quail,  but  if  it  is  any 
thing  like  getting  down  on  the  carpet,  and  crawling 
round  on  their  hands  and  knees,  Mr.  Ardith  did  not 
do  it.  He  just  stood  with  his  head  flung  back,  and 
gazing  at  her  with  such  an  appealing  look  that  I  was 
glad  I  was  not  in  America's  place.  As  it  was  I  was 
perfectly  dazed,  but  I  managed  to  hear  Mr.  Ralson 
saying,  "  You  come  in  here,  and  take  a  letter,  Miss 
Dennam.  Wallace,  you'll  have  to  excuse  me  a 
minute, "  and  we  left  the  two  standing  there  together. 


284  LETTERS    HOME. 

This  was  all  I  could  write  last  night,  for  Mr.  Ralson 
really  had  a  business  letter  to  dictate,  and  a  pretty 
long  one,  which  he  wanted  me  to  write  out  after  I 
had  taken  it  down  in  short  hand,  because  he  did  not 
want  the  hotel  type-writer  to  see  it,  even  if  she  had 
been  on  duty,  Sunday  night.  He  went  in  to  Mrs. 
Ralson's  room  after  I  had  taken  the  letter,  and  I  was 
scribbling  away  at  the  long-hand  copy  of  it,  when  I 
looked  up,  and  there  was  America  standing  at  my 
side  and  smiling  down  on  me,  but  looking  rather 
silly.  She  flung  her  arms  round  me,  and  hid  her  face 
in  my  neck,  and  kind  of  smothered  out,  "  He  is  an 
angel !  But  don't  ask  me,  now  !  " 

Of  course  I  have  heard  since  why  he  was  an  angel, 
but  I  guess  you  will  have  to  wait  till  you  see  me 
before  you  find  out.  There  are  some  things  so  sacred 
that  they  make  you  sick.  But  if  those  two  simple 
tons  were  fated  to  come  it  over  each  other,  they  have 
done  it,  and  they  have  done  it  whether  they  were 
fated  to  or  not.  What  I  am  now  trying  to  do  is  to 
untangle  my  own  ideas,  and  get  the  rights  of  it, 
somehow.  It  is  straight,  about  America.  She  had 
to  go  through  that  humbugging  with  me  for  the  last 
three  days,  because  it  was  our  woman's  nature  to ; 
but  it  is  not  straight  about  Mr.  Ardith,  and  I  am 


MISS  FRANCES  DENNAM  TO  MRS.  DENNAM.      285 

tempted  to  go  back  to  my  original  opinion  of  him  as 
a  poor  thing.  Other  people's  forgiving  him  and  re 
leasing  him  from  the  consequences  of  what  he  has 
done,  has  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  that  does  not  change 
it,  or  lessen  his  responsibility  in  the  least.  The  cold 
fact  is  that  out  of  his  weak  pity  he  let  that  silly  child 
get  in  love  with  him,  when  he  was  not  only  not  in 
love  with  her  but  was  actually  in  love  with  somebody 
else.  That  is  what  I  cannot  excuse  him  for,  though 
to  be  sure  he  has  not  asked  me  to ;  and  on  the  other 
hand  I  have  to  ask  myself  how  I  should  have  felt 
toward  him  if  he  had  died  from  the  grippe,  there, 
when  everybody  expected  it,  instead  of  ignominiously 
getting  well  and  remaining  on  everybody's  hands. 
Should  I  have  thought  he  had  expiated  his  offence, 
or  doesn't  death  really  wipe  out  a  wrong  ?  It  does  in 
novels,  but  does  it  in  real  life  ? 

"  The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them; 

The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones. " 
That  is  what  Shakespeare  says,  and  Shakespeare 
knew  a  thing  or  two,  though  he  does  not  always 
let  on.  Am  I  mad  with  Mr.  Ardith  because  he  has 
made  a  farce  out  of  his  tragedy  by  living  through  it ; 
and,  if  I  am,  how  much  better  would  the  tragedy 
have  been  ?  And  is  he  responsible  for  the  harm  he 


286  LETTERS    HOME. 

did  not  want  to  do,  and  did  not  mean  to  do,  or 
was  that  just  fate  ?  If  it  was,  what  becomes  of  the 
suffering  of  that  girl's  heart  that  he  let  trifle  with 
itself?  Of  course  she  was  very  young,  and  she  will 
get  over  it;  her  own  mother  says  she  will.  But 
does  her  mother  really  believe  it,  or  does  she  say 
so  because  she  is  poor  and  the  Ralsons  are  rich, 
and  she  does  not  dare  to  quarrel  with  her  family's 
bread  and  butter?  Any  way,  she  seems  to  me  the 
only  one,  except  America,  who  is  coming  out  of 
the  difficulty  with  any  chance  of  self-respect. 

You  see  I  am  gathering  up  my  principles  from 
the  woodpile,  but  they  seem  rather  weather-beaten, 
and  I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  be  able  to  use 
them  as  effectually  as  formerly.  Some  of  them  are 
considerably  frayed  round  the  roots. 

FRANCES. 


XLVIII. 

From  WALLACE  ARDITH  to  A.  L.  WIBBERT,  Wottoma. 

NEW  YORK,  March  10,  1902. 
My  Dear  Lincoln: 

I  wanted  to  write  you  last  night,  but  I  was  not 
equal  to  it.  Since  my  letter  of  a  week  ago  I  have 
been  through  enough  to  try  a  well  man,  and  I  am  not 
well,  yet,  by  any  means.  But  now  I  have  something 
to  get  well  for,  and  then  I  hadn't. 

I  went  that  night  to  the  Baysleys',  when  I  told  you 
I  should,  expecting  to  see  both  of  the  old  people,  and 
tell  them  that  it  was  off  between  America  and  me, 
and  try  to  make  it  right  with  Essie.  That  is  the  brute 
fact;  but  of  course  I  had  got  it  into  some  heroic  shape 
so  that  it  was  tolerable  to  the  imagination.  Jenny  let 
me  in,  with  her  mouth  pursed  in  hostility,  and  said 
her  mother  was  at  home,  but  her  father  was  out,  and 
she  stood  holding  the  door,  so  that  I  could  go  away  if 
I  chose.  I  said  her  mother  would  do,  and  in  fact  I 
287 


288  LETTERS    HOME. 

suddenly  felt  that  I  could  manage  better  with  her,  for 
I  always  respected  her  more  than  her  husband.  I 
found  her  alone  in  the  parlor,  though  I  knew  that 
Essie  had  just  crept  out  of  it.  She  asked  me  if  I 
would  sit  down,  and,  country  fashion,  if  I  would  let 
her  take  my  hat ;  and  then  she  left  the  beginning  to 
me.  I  do  not  think  she  meant  to  make  it  hard  for 
me,  but  that  did  not  make  it  easy ;  and  I  fought  away 
from  it  as  long  as  I  could.  Then  I  found  a  sort  of 
relief  in  facing  the  business.  But  it  was  an  ugly 
business,  and  I  cannot  pretend  that  I  put  a  pleasant 
face  on  it.  She  listened  patiently  enough,  and  then 
she  asked  me  if  I  cared  for  Essie  the  way  I  did  for 
America;  and  the  fine  pretences  that  I  had  been  pre 
paring  turned  useless  on  my  hands.  In  the  presence 
of  her  honesty  I  was  obliged  to  be  honest  myself.  I 
said,  No,  I  did  not ;  and  then  she  asked  why  I  had 
come  back ;  was  it  because  I  had  made  the  child  think 
I  cared  for  her,  or  because  I  thought  she  cared  for 
me  ?  That  was  a  bad  moment,  Line,  and  the  best  I 
could  do  was  to  hang  my  head.  Then  she  asked  me 
if  I  thought  that  was  a  good  reason,  and  whether  I 
expected  her  daughter  to  accept  such  an  offer,  or 
would  I  have  wanted  a  sister  of  mine  to  do  it  ?  I  had 
to  own  that  I  would  not,  and  she  said  maybe  I  would 


WALLACE  AKDITH  TO  A.    L     WIBBERT.  289 

consider  that  an  answer  ;  she  would  send  for  Essie, 
and  let  her  speak  for  herself,  if  I  wished,  after  I  had 
told  her  the  same  things.  Silence  might  not  have 
been  the  best  thing  for  me,  but  it  was  the  only  thing, 
and  I  felt  myself  dwindling  from  a  hero  and  martyr 
into  something  so  infinitessimal  that  there  is  no  name 
for  it.  That  was  when  she  began  to  have  a  little 
mercy  on  me,  and  to  let  me  up  from  the  dust.  She 
told  me  that  she  had  heard  from  Essie  about  our 
goings-on  together,  and  that  she  did  not  blame  me 
more  than  Essie,  except  that  I  was  ten  years  older  and 
knew  more.  She  made  a  better  defence  for  me  than 
I  could  have  made  for  myself,  and  she  did  not  spare 
me  her  gratitude  for  what  I  had  done  for  them  in 
their  sickness  ;  she  gave  me  credit  for  good  motives, 
which  I  will  not  pretend  was  not  my  due,  though  I 
could  never  have  claimed  it :  but  I  know  I  was  not 
selfish  in  going  to  live  with  them,  and  I  did  my  best 
to  help  them  in  their  trouble  ;  I  see  that  as  clearly  as 
any  one.  After  she  had  done  that  for  me  she  sig 
nified,  by  holding  her  tongue,  that  I  could  go,  and  I 
went.  I  wonder  I  did  not  go  through  the  keyhole  ; 
there  would  have  been  room. 

I  did  not  realize  till  afterwards  that  she  had  not 
said  a  word  about  America,  and  whether  this  was  by 


290  LETTERS    HOME. 

accident  or  design,  I  could  not  help  letting  the  fact 
praise  her.  I  do  not  see  how  anybody  could  have 
done  justice  in  the  circumstances  with  greater  dignity. 
She  set  me  free,  but  she  has  bound  me  to  her  in  ties 
which  will  last  my  life,  and  if  ever  the  chance  offers 
to  do  her  or  hers  a  good  turn  it  will  not  be  lost  upon 
me.  I  have  heard  since  that  old  Baysley  had  ar 
ranged  it  with  Mr.  Ralson  that  they  were  to  go  back 
on  the  same  salary  to  Timber  Creek,  but  Mrs.  Bays- 
ley  put  her  foot  down  on  that.  She  and  her  girls 
have  determined  that  they  will  stay  in  New  York,  and 
if  any  hint  of  their  trouble  gets  home,  it  will  not  be 
through  their  bringing  it. 

I  have  written  this  out  pretty  squarely,  and  when  I 
began,  I  thought  I  was  going  to  tell  you  how  I  made 
it  up  with  America.  But  it  really  made  itself  up ; 
nobody  had  any  sort  of  agency  in  it,  and  I  least  of 
all.  Besides,  I  do  not  find  it  possible  to  write  you 
the  whole  story  as  I  intended,  but  sometime  I  will 
tell  it,  when  we  meet.  I  have  talked  every  minute 
of  my  life  over  with  America,  and  she  knows  just 
how  unworthy  I  am.  She  agrees  with  Mrs.  Baysley 
about  me,  but  I  guess  she  forgives  me  more  because 
she  loves  me  more. 

Her  forgiveness  does  not  and  cannot  change  the 


WALLACE  ARDITH  TO  A.   L.   WIBBERT.          291 

facts,  and  I  am  not  bringing  to  the  happiness  in 
store  for  me  any  overpowering  sense  of  desert.  I 
wish  I  could,  for  her  dear  sake,  for  she  is  worthy 
of  unalloyed  rapture.  I  feel  that  my  ignominy  is  a 
sort  of  slight  to  her,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  To  such 
a  girl  her  love  should  be  "  one  entire  and  perfect 
chrysolite,  "  and  I  come  clouded  and  fissured  from 
an  experience  that  I  can  never  think  of  without 
shame.  You  can  say  I  exaggerate,  and  I  know  that 
in  a  manner  I  do.  But  I  am  not  wrong  in  recogniz 
ing  that  I  have  laid  up  for  myself  a  life-long  regret, 
which  I  may  forget  from  time  to  time,  but  which, 
whenever  I  remember  it,  must  be  the  pang  that  it  is 
now.  I  forebode  an  inextinguishable  vitality  in  the 
thing,  and  I  know  that  in  whatever  happiest  moment 
of  the  future  I  recur  to  it,  the  fact  that  I  have  hurt 
some  one,  that  I  have  betrayed  the  creature  that 
trusted  me,  that  in  my  infernal  soft-heartedness  I 
have  wronged  the  hope  I  inspired,  will  be  a  torture 
out  of  which  the  anguish  cannot  pass. 

If  you  say  I  am  not  very  well,  and  perhaps  that 
I  am  looking  at  these  things  with  sick  eyes,  I  can 
not  deny  it.  I  am  not  well  yet,  but  there  is  nothing 
more  serious  than  the  cough  that  the  grippe  usual 
ly  leaves  behind  it.  There  is  talk  of  my  going 


LETTERS    HOME. 

South  somewhere  for  that,  and  the  talk  is  that  I 
am  not  to  go  alone.  But  I  will  write  you  later 
about  that. 

Yours  ever, 

W.  AEDITH. 


XLIX 
From  MR.  OTIS    BINNING   to  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING, 

Boston. 

NEW  YORK,  March  12,  1902. 
My  dear  Margaret : 

I  shall  be  glad  to  know,  some  day  after  we  meet, 
just  how  a  Boston  woman  so  completely  of  our  old 
tradition  as  you,  should  have  allowed  herself  to 
become  so  absorbed  in  the  loves  of  my  wild  West 
erners.  I  could  understand,  of  course,  if  you  had 
met  them  in  the  fine  ether  of  one  of  James's  stories — 
I  wish  he  still  wrote  about  Americans — you  would 
have  been  bewitched  with  his  delicate  precis  of  that 
affair ;  but  not  how  you  could  suffer  the  affair  at  first 
hand,  with  the  heat  of  their  savage  life  in  it:  not 
merely  suffer  it,  but  long  for  it  more  and  more,  and 
heap  me  with  reproaches  for  not  satisfying  your 
famine  for  it. 

In  each  letter  I  have  written  you  since  my  letter  of 

the    23d   February,    in  which   I   intimated    a  tragic 
293 


294  LETTERS    HOME. 

property  in  the  situation,  I  have  tried  to  feed  your 
curiosity  with  divinations  which  I  thought  filling,  but 
which  you  seem  not  to  have  found  so ;  and  at  times 
your  ingratitude  has  driven  me  almost  to  invention. 
The  fact  is  I  have  felt  myself  becoming  every  day 
more  peripheral  to  the  situation.  At  the  most  I 
could  catch  a  glimpse  of  its  interior ;  I  could  chance 
a  flying  conjecture,  I  could  seize  a  meteoric  intima 
tion,  now  from  the  secretary  of  the  heroine,  now  from 
heroine  herself.  The  heroine's  father  has  been  mostly 
in  Washington;  the  hero  has  been  safe  from  me  in 
the  hold  of  his  grippe.  What  I  knew,  what  I 
guessed,  I  generously  shared  with  you ;  but  I  have  too 
manifestly  failed  to  appease  your  impatience.  Now, 
when  I  come  to  you  at  last  with  the  substance  of  the 
accomplished  fact,  I  have  reason  to  fear  that  you  will 
reject  it  as  gross  commonplace,  wholly  unworthy  of 
the  fine  issues  promised  earlier,  and  declare  that  I 
tardily  bring  you  tidings  which  every  one  else  that 
cares  can  know  a  day  later. 

Yes,  Miss  Ralson  and  Mr.  Ardith  are  engaged :  I  do 
not  know  how,  or  when,  or  why.  But  she  has  told 
me  so  herself,  in  my  quality  of  old  friend :  my  date, 
if  not  the  date  of  my  acquaintance,  justifies  the 
phrase.  They  are  engaged,  and  they  are  going  to  be 


MR    OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS     WALTER  BINNING.    295 

married,  and  going  to  the  Bermudas:  there  is  no 
such  desperate  haste  for  their  marriage,  but  the  voy 
age  is  in  the  urgent  interest  of  his  convalescence,  for 
the  grippe  has  left  him  with  a  cough,  for  which  Miss 
Ralson  has  heard  that  the  air  of  those  semi-tropical 
islands  is  soveriegn  ;  she  is  already  talking  of  his 
health  as  if  she  had  been  in  charge  of  it  for  years. 

They  are  not  going  to  take  the  secretary  with  them ; 
she  remains  to  console  Miss  Ralson's  parents,  and 
she  has  been  promised  me  for  my  own  conso 
lation  in  the  absence  of  my  lovers.  But  I  do  not 
know  that  I  shall  outstay  them  here.  New  York  will 
be  very  empty  without  them.  I  cannot  go  back  to 
any  pleasure  in  the  Van  der  Doeses  after  the  specta 
cle  of  this  elemental  passion ;  Prince  Henry  has  gone 
home,  and  there  is  little  in  the  civic  affairs  of  the 
metropolis  to  entertain  me.  I  have  not  yet  decided 
between  the  steamer  for  Liverpool  and  the  train  for 
Boston ;  but  if  you  do  not  see  me  soon  you  will  hear 
from  me  before  you  expect :  one  gets  to  Liverpool  so 
suddenly.  Perhaps  if  I  take  the  steamer  I  shall  find 
the  Ardiths  in  Europe  before  I  return ;  and  I  cannot 
imagine  finding  them  in  Boston. 

What  I  seem  to  see  (with,  I  own,  a  somewhat  self- 
distrustful  forecast)  is  the  end  of  those  social 


29(5  LETTERS     HOME. 

ambitions,  not  very  poignantly  anxious,  which  have 
betrayed  themselves  to  me  in  Miss  Ralson.  The 
house  in  the  East  side  Nineties  (have  I  never  told 
you  of  that  house  ?  When  I  have  been  told  so  much 
of  it !)  will  be  built,  but  I  doubt  whether  it  will  be 
made  the  basis  of  a  more  studied  attack  on  the 
mythic  Four  Hundred :  that  poor  Four  Hundred 
which  everyone  who  does  not  doubt  it,  abuses ;  and 
which  has  been  driven  to  deny  its  own  existence,  by 
the  intolerable  self-consciousness  created  in  it  by  the 
popular  superistition.  I  hope  rather  that  the  Ealson 
residence  may  become  the  scene  of  those  literary 
orgies  which  have  been  so  lacking  in  New  York,  and 
without  which  it  has  been  unable  to  realize  itself  a 
literary  centre.  I  can  imagine  the  energies  of  the 
young  wife  dedicated  to  culture  in  the  interest  of  her 
young  husband,  and  carrying  him  forward  on  the  line 
of  his  aspirations  with  tireless  devotion.  The  dif 
ficulty,  if  any,  will  be  that  she  may  not  be  able  to 
distinguish  between  literature  and  journalism ;  in  this 
she  will  be  genuinely  New  York ;  and  will  conceive  of 
accomplishing  his  career  for  him  by  making  her 
father  buy  him  a  newspaper :  say  The  Signal;  I  hear 
that  her  father  already  owns  a  controlling  interest  in 
it,  and  that  Gasman  is  merely  his  man. 


MR.  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.    WALTER  BINNING.  297 

I  am  not  otherwise  in  the  financial  confidence  of 
the  Trust,  though  since  his  daughter's  engagement 
has  been  announced  to  me — the  events  have  necessa 
rily  been  prodigiously  foreshortened  in  the  brief  time 
allowed  them — he  has,  as  a  parent,  taken  me  to  his 
heart.  After  his  daughter  left  us  at  dinner  (which 
we  had  in  their  apartment)  last  night  he  approached 
the  matter  in  a  vein  of  jocose  inquiry,  and  invited  my 
opinion  of  Mr.  Ardith  by  the  subtle  generality  that 
these  things  were  all  in  a  lifetime.  I  ventured  to  say 
that  they  were  very  pleasant  things  to  have  in  one's 
lifetime ;  and  he  rejoined  to  the  effect  that  if  Make 
(so  he  shortens  her  name  of  America)  was  suited,  he 
was ;  and  though  it  was  rather  sudden,  it  was  the  kind 
of  thing  that  would  have  seemed  sudden,  anyway. 
He  laughed  with  a  great  spread  of  his  white  mous 
tache,  and  pushed  me  the  whiskey,  and  began  to 
patronize  me  with  condescensions  suitable  to  a  woman 
of  my  years.  He  cannot  make  me  out,  I  believe,  but 
these  money -getters,  though  they  are  bewildered  by 
the  difference  of  some  other  man,  are  never  abashed 
by  it.  I  have  no  doubt  but  in  his  heart  he  despises 
the  fineness  of  the  pretty  boy,  and  hopes  to  coarsen 
him  to  his  own  uses.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  the  fine 
ness  of  Ardith  will  render  him  the  easier  victim; 


298  LETTERS   HOME. 

money  compels  even  the  poetic  fancy,  and  he  will  mis- 
imagine  this  common  millionaire  into  something  rare 
and  strange,  and  of  rightful  authority  over  such  as 
himself. 

But  the  daughter,  who  is  of  the  father's  make,  with 
the  difference  of  "  the  finer  female  sense,  "  may  be  the 
poet's  refuge.  I  will  not  despair  for  him ;  at  least  I 
will  not  let  you  despair. 

As  you  know  I  have  sometimes  had  my  misgivings 
that  their  affair  was  not  worthy  of  your  interest,  but 
you  have  convinced  me  that  it  was  worthy  of  mine. 
These  people  whom  it  seems  to  have  concerned  less 
intimately,  who  are  as  it  were  the  material  out  of 
which  our  romance  has  fashioned  itself,  have  certainly 
their  limitations.  They  could  not  appeal  to  us  from 
the  past  or  present  keeping  of  our  own  lives.  If  they 
were  not  so  intensely  real  to  themselves,  they  might 
seem  to  me  characters  in  a  rather  crude  American 
story.  In  fact  are  not  they  just  that?  They  are 
certainly  American  and  certainly  crude ;  and  now  that 
they  are  passing  beyond  my  social  contact,  I  feel  as 
safe  from  them,  and  from  the  necessity  of  explaining 
them  or  justifying  them,  as  if  they  were  shut  in  a 
book  I  had  finished  reading.  I  am  rather  disposed 
to  rejoice  that  I  have  known  them  no  more  than  I 


MB,  OTIS  BINNING  TO  MRS.  WALTER  BINNING.     299 

have.  If  I  could  find  the  author  I  should  like  to 
make  him  my  compliment  on  having  managed  so  skil 
fully  that  he  left  some  passages  to  my  conjecture. 
What  was  the  trouble,  for  instance,  of  my  poor 
boy's — "half -broken  and  withdrawn" — that  day  in 
the  park  ?  What  unknown  shores  of  tragedy  has  not 
their  story  skirted  in  its  course  ?  Over  what  turbider 
social  depths  may  not  it  have  swum  beyond  my  ken  ? 
Who  was  that  mystical  and  subordinate  second  in  his 
affections,  if  his  darkling  problem  was  one  of  conduct 
and  not  of  art  ?  Did  it  concern  Miss  Ralson,  and  if  it 
did,  how?  I  shall  never  know,  and  what  is  perhaps 
less  acceptable,  you,  Margaret,  never  will,  either 
Your  affectionate  brother, 

OTIS. 


THK     END. 


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REC'D 


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